


The Last Stranding

by Sunshinegrimes



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - The Last of Us (Video Games) Setting, Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Bottom Higgs Monaghan, Bridges being Bridges, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Dubious Science, Forced Captivity, Gay disaster Higgs Monaghan, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Intersex Higgs Monaghan, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Porter Sam, Power Imbalance, Pre-Relationship, Prisoner Higgs, Road Trips, Shock Collars, Top Sam Porter, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27558358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshinegrimes/pseuds/Sunshinegrimes
Summary: "Sam, I know that you normally refuse human cargo, but I’m not sure I trust anyone else to handle this."Sam didn’t need to know who his cargo was, he didn’t need to know what the specifics were of their past, or what would happen to them once they were delivered. The less Sam knew the better. It would be a whole lot easier for both of them if he kept his distance, and just did his job. Right?~It should have been like any other job. Collect the cargo, deliver it in one piece, and move on. Sam didn't like to get attached, and he certainly avoided making connections whenever possible. However, this delivery would prove to go a lot different from what he had planned.
Relationships: Sam Porter Bridges/Higgs Monaghan
Comments: 100
Kudos: 99





	1. Sold my Soul to the Calling

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a culmination of my love for Death Stranding and The Last of Us, and is inspired by a RP of this AU between my best friend and I. 
> 
> I love both of these universes, and I've tried to remain equally faithful to the designs and limitations of both worlds. However, I've taken a lot of liberties with things like travel times and distance (being from the UK). I've also woven together a lot of the worldbuilding elements from both universes in order to create a single, blended AU. If you are a fan of one, or both of the games, I hope you will enjoy this verse as much, as I am enjoying writing it!
> 
> *IMPORTANT*
> 
> Going forward, I will put warnings at the start of each chapter. However, there are a few content warnings I want to give you from the beginning:
> 
> This fic will contain: Canon-typical violence and gore, Noncon/Dubcon Elements (Implied and explicit), Power Imbalance, Forced Captivity, Explicit Language, Offensive Language (homophobic and transphobic-coded), PIV Sex, Child Abuse, and Alcoholism/Drug Abuse. If any of those things make you uncomfortable, and aren't your cup of tea, please consider your safety and mental health first! 
> 
> I have a feeling this will be quite long, but let's see how the first chapter goes! Yeehaw 🍕

*

"Lonely shadows following me

Lonely ghosts come a-calling

Lonely voices talking to me

_ Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone"_

*

_Sam. Sorry to bother you while you’re taking a break._

_I have a job for you, coming up on the 12th. It should be a 6 month round trip, heading out to Portland, Oregon, to deliver a single passenger. The nature of this job is extremely classified, but Bridges will pay you well for your discretion. You’ll be provided with a vehicle, and ample supplies to make the journey. The prisoner in question is being quarantined in Central Knot City prison, and will be adequately restrained to ease your journey westwards as much as possible. Come by the Distribution Centre at 6:00am on Sunday, and we will discuss your contract further._

_Sam, I know that you normally refuse human cargo, but I’m not sure I trust anyone else to handle this._

_Stay strong, and breathe easy,_

_Die-Hardman._

*

Sam had only been asleep for a handful of hours, when the crackle of static from his radio woke him up.

It had been a long week of deliveries within the safe zone of Central Knot City, and the one thing that Sam had been looking forward to was a good night’s sleep. He had collapsed into bed a few minutes past midnight, his shoulders stiff and his lower back throbbing from the weight of phantom cargo. His apartment was small, grey, and sparsely decorated. The furniture was cobbled together, and one of the windows carried a draft no matter how much paper he stuffed into the cracks around the edges. It might have been a nice home, once upon a time, when the wallpaper wasn’t so faded, and the doors didn’t creak from over 40 years of disrepair. Still, it was quiet, devoid of the noise and bustle of the inner city. No one came knocking this far into the outskirts without a good reason.

Balled up under his blankets, Sam released a deep sigh from his chest, before he forced himself out of his warm cocoon. He reached through the gloom for the source of the noise: his radio, where it perched on his bedside table against a stack of worn paperbacks.

“Yeah?” He grunted into the device, rubbing a hand down his face, and blinking rapidly to try and wake himself up more.

“Sam.” Came Die-Hardman’s voice in his ear, and Sam released his hold on the button to let out a groan of irritation. A quick glance at his alarm informed him that it was barely 5:00 in the morning, on his day off, and Bridges was _already_ bothering him? “I trust you got my letter. I need to speak to you about that job. It’s a matter of urgency.”

“Yeah, I got it.” It looked like he wasn’t going to be getting back to sleep anytime soon, so Sam pulled himself from his bed, the radio still held to his ear. His bare feet brushed the dusty floor, as he drew back the curtains covering the bedroom window. It was late Autumn, and beyond the city, the horizon bloomed pink with the first rays of sunlight. Somewhere nearby, he could hear the distant sound of dogs barking, and the edges of the glass panes were condensed from the chill of the dawn. “I don’t take human cargo. You know that.”

“I do, but like I said, I don’t know if I trust anyone else to handle this.”

Sam was about to remark about how that was _too damn bad_ , but something in Die-Hardman’s voice was different. The man was usually all business, straight to the point and formal, but on this occasion, he sounded… _strained?_ Clearly whoever this prisoner was had Die-Hardman’s feathers ruffled, and the level of secrecy surrounding the contract had Sam curious.

“I’ll be there by 6. I’m not saying yes just yet, though.”

“Thank you, Sam. I’ll be waiting at the Distribution Centre.” Just like that, Sam was left to the silence of his apartment once more. 

Sam tossed his radio on his bed, and yawned into his knuckles, as he wandered to his small bathroom to get cleaned up. He needed to wash, get some food in his stomach, and some coffee too if he was going to listen to Die-Hardman try to convince him by talking about ‘patriotism’ and working for ‘the greater good of America.’

One could quite easily assume, by Sam’s reluctance, that he didn’t enjoy being a Porter. However, that assessment couldn’t be further from the truth. He enjoyed his work, and the solitude it gave him. He wasn’t confined to one place, wasn’t forced to be friendly with the same faces every day, and he didn’t have to depend on anything or anyone but his wits and his own two feet. Sure, the early starts and muscle aches left a lot to be desired, but Sam was used to the grind, and held no envy in his heart for those trapped in comfortable, dead end jobs that took them no further than their mechanical, daily commute. 

Porters were a highly necessary part of the great ecosystem that comprised the once-great nation of America. The world outside the walls of each city and outpost were cruel, and unforgiving, having been claimed by the infected generations ago. Sam had been little more than a baby at the time, but he had grown up on stories of the way the world was before the collapse. Stories of how people moved freely, how they communicated across continents and oceans, and how most people worried very little about where their next meal came from. 

While the majority of people from that time had either died of old age, or succumbed to the infection, there were still echoes of that former world all around him in the outskirts of Central Knot City. There were whole streets that still lay abandoned decades later, but most had been picked clean of anything of value that could be reused closer to the capital. 

As Sam ventured towards the Distribution Centre, Die-Hardman’s letter folded up in his back pocket, he let his eyes wander to the faded storefronts on his familiar stretch of road. His apartment was set above an old deli shop, and the building next to it was once a record store. The neon signage behind the windows that depicted a guitar and a drumset had remained clear, and unlit, far longer than Sam had lived there. He doubted it would ever be illuminated again, but he imagined what the store would have been like in its heyday, with people perusing the aisles, and the thrum of instruments from the basement, now dusty and dark.

The cold, murky walk took him almost 20 minutes, and according to his watch, he was a few minutes early by the time he entered the large building. Behind him, the sun now lay low in the sky, and he cast a long shadow into the open double doors, his boots kicking up rainwater from the night’s storm. It had just started to rain as he was locking up before bed, and luckily for Sam, it appeared to have just been a short shower.

The Distribution Centre had previously been a large motor dealership, selling expensive cars and motorcycles, once upon a time. Now, it had been gutted and repurposed like many of the larger structures in the heart of the Capital, and the UCA used it to package, send and receive cargo between their various cities and outposts, both near and far. Die-Hardman was waiting for him above the main floor, and Sam made his way up the stairs to where he was standing, overlooking the Porters as they went about their contracts.

“Good morning, Sam. Glad you could make it.” It was almost impossible to gauge Die-Hardman's mood, behind the black skull mask he wore. If Sam had to guess, he would say he was relieved to see him.

“What’s this about then?” Sam leaned his arms on the railing, still feeling a shroud of weariness over his shoulders from too-little sleep. All he had to do was hear Die-Hardman out, tell him _no_ , and go back home to enjoy the rest of his day off in peace. “Why all the cloak and dagger bullshit?”

“Well, Sam.” Die-Hardman joined him against the railing, close enough to lower his voice, but not too close that Sam felt uncomfortable. Despite their distant, mostly radio-based relationship, Die-Hardman was one of the few that seemed to understand his need for personal space. “Bridges has been trying to apprehend this particular person for over 5 years now. They were the figurehead of a large terrorist organisation, and their ‘work’ is a great threat to the UCA.”

“You think someone’ll try bust them out on the road?” Sam frowned. It was one thing to take on human cargo, and another thing to take on such a high-risk assignment.

“I can’t say for sure, but I’m not willing to take that risk. That’s why I need you to do this, Sam. You work alone, you’re a private man, and you’re good at what you do.”

“What’s in it for me?” Die-Hardman had mentioned pay in his letter, but Sam wanted to know the specifics. Bridges wasn’t likely to try and screw him over, but this contract sounded anything but simple. Hell, if what Die-Hardman was saying was true, and he let slip the identity of this prisoner, he could have terrorists gunning for him. That was the last thing Sam wanted.

“You’ll be compensated well.” Die-Hardman assured him. “We’ll provide you with everything you'll need for your journey, and pay you a rate of ten times your usual salary. Also, you’ll be working the same job for 6 months, with one final destination, which sounds a lot easier than the usual chain-delivery work.”

“This ain’t no road trip. Nothing about this job sounds easy.” The contract was throwing up a lot of red flags, that’s for sure. However, Sam had to admit that the idea of spending 6 months away from Central Knot City, and getting some distance between him and Bridges, didn't sound like a bad idea. The extra credits sounded nice too, Sam could afford to take a few months of respite after he got home, if he delivered his cargo in one piece. 

_His cargo._

Sam was curious about the person he would be delivering. If they were as high profile as Die-Hardman claimed, Sam would have to be very careful for those 6 months, and not give them any opening to turn on him. 

Human cargo missions were often fraught with danger, and often the passengers weren’t equipped to deal with the world outside of the safe zone. Surviving in the wilderness was rough for any individual, and that was before you started to factor in _another_ person’s well-being. It was hard to find a Porter that would take on such contracts, and those that did were usually inexperienced tryhards, looking to up their rating and earn credits quickly. Sam was looking for neither, but he knew that Die-Hardman wasn’t the sort of person to chase after him specifically if it wasn’t important. 

There was definitely something bigger going on here, but for the time being, he decided that whatever it was didn’t matter all that much. Sam didn’t need to know who his cargo was, he didn’t need to know what the specifics were of their past, or what would happen to them once they were delivered. The less Sam knew the better. It would be a whole lot easier for both of them, if he kept his distance, and just did his job. Right?

“I’ll do it.” Sam folded his arms, and gave Die-Hardman a wary glance. “Where are they?”

“Thank you Sam. Come this way, I’ll show you your gear.” Die-Hardman turned, and led Sam through the upper level of the Centre. The rooms up here had once been offices, and lounges for greeting prospective clients. Now, they were used for the organisation of the Centre, and behind the glass walls, Sam could see crew members tallying up supply numbers, and organising contract letters. Sam had been up here a few times before, but only to refurbish his gear when necessary. As a compensation for what was often strenuous work, Porters were provided with standard work safety clothing, and good boots were becoming an increasingly rare luxury, in the new world. 

Die-Hardman took him beyond the offices, to the fire escape at the back of the building. They looped around and around on the concrete stairs, and descended back to the street level. There, a large, white truck was parked up, hidden, and surrounded by armed guards. It was a Bridges vehicle, the type used only by the higher-ups in the City, and in the low, golden light of the morning, the body of the truck gleamed like molten metal. The thick tread on the tyres ensured that the passengers were kept above the dirt and debris of the road, and the trunk space looked filled to the brim with supplies: food, water, clothing, first aid supplies, emergency equipment and most importantly, ammunition and guns. Sam appraised the contents, and gave Die-Hardman a nod. Bridges had really gone all out, and had clearly been hoarding these supplies for this very trip. Questions about his cargo once again crept in at the edges of his thoughts, but Sam dispelled them quickly, and turned away from the truck’s contents. Die-Hardman was speaking to him. 

“Inside the glove compartment is a map detailing your route. Your first stop will be the outpost just outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The roads beyond the city are rough, but this vehicle should be able to handle whatever you throw at it, and get you there in a few day’s time. Once you reach the outpost, radio back to us, and update us on your progress.”

“Got it.”

“Also, you’ll need this.” From the pocket of his coat, Die-Hardman passed him a strange looking silver necklace. Looped through the chain was a series of odd, rectangular pendants. It didn’t look like anything Sam had seen before, and when he took it, it was curiously heavy in his palm. “Show this at the gates of each outpost. They’ll know it’s a gift from the President, and grant you any supplies they can spare without question.”

“What if I lose it?” Sam stared at the necklace for a little longer, before looping it around his neck. The metal was cool against his throat, and Die-Hardman’s words, _a gift from the President_ , sent a shiver through him. The last thing he wanted was a gift from _her._

“Radio through to us anyway. We should still be able to organise things, but this is the quickest way to ensure you get what you need.” Die-Hardman turned to one of the guards. “You can bring them out now, Good luck, Sam.”

As Die-Hardman walked away, back towards the fire exit, Sam returned to the rear of the truck. After one final glance over, he shut the doors to the trunk, locking it securely, before climbing into the driver’s side. The inside of the cabin was icy and condensed, so he turned the keys that he found in the ignition, and fiddled with the dashboard, until it began to warm up a few degrees. He found a loaded handgun, and the map Die-Hardman had mentioned, in the glove box, and he studied it while he waited for his cargo to be brought out. To say the route looked rough was an understatement. It looked like they would be taking a lot of back roads to their destination, and passing through a lot of smaller towns, as the main highways and built up areas would be filled with abandoned cars and the infected. The further west they travelled, the worse it would get, so they couldn’t afford to take any risks with their supplies, or the truck.

After a few minutes into studying the route, Sam was distracted by a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. From a side door in the Distribution Centre, Sam could see a group of around a dozen armed men making their way over to him. Between them walked a tall figure, leanly built under their simple, black clothing. A hood had been placed over their head, and they had cuffs binding their wrists behind their back. But despite the restraints, they appeared to be walking with confidence. Their chest was puffed out, and they moved with a surefootness that showed no sign of stumbling or hesitating. As they neared the truck, Sam wound down the window to hear what the officer at the helm of the group was saying.

“...glad to be finally getting rid of this guy. He’s been a pain in the ass all year.” The officer was saying, and he halted the squad by the bonnet of the truck. From the driver’s seat, Sam watched, silently, as the officer reached up and yanked the hood off of the prisoner’s head. The man underneath had a strong profile, his jaw was covered in a light growth of facial hair, and above his defined cheekbones, the man had the most piercing blue eyes that Sam had ever seen. His hair was pushed back from his forehead, but a few strands had strayed down from the hood. His expression was fixed in amusement, as he looked down on the officer that stood before him.

The man took a slow, deep breath of the crisp morning air through his nose, and he smiled wider as he took in his audience. He cracked his neck left, then right, before turning back to the officer. “All this trouble for little ol’ me? You know I can’t do anything with this collar ‘round my neck, Harrison.” Sam wasn’t sure what voice he had expected to come out of his cargo. The man’s accent was southern, and his tone was almost friendly, but Sam knew better than to trust it. 

At the mention of a collar, Sam’s eyes lowered towards the band he hadn’t yet noticed was around the man’s neck. It was black, about two finger’s thick, and at the front, a small, blue light shone from a silver plate. The man's skin, around the collar, looked mottled with bruising, and scabbed from what appeared to be burns. It looked painful, but the device was clearly placed there for a reason. Perhaps as a tracker of sorts? Sam would make sure to ask Harrison, before they left. 

When the man received no reply from Harrison, he licked slowly across the front of his teeth, and leaned closer, as though they were having a private conversation. His expression morphed into one of feigned concern, and his voice grew soft, honey sweet. “How’s your wife? Is she still hobbling around at home? I hear losing a limb is one thing, but losing an eye too must make her hell on the stairs.” The man had barely finished his sentence, before he received a firm punch across the jaw for his efforts. His upper body landed with a thud on the bonnet of the truck, as the squad surrounded him, pinning him down with a little more force than necessary. “That’s it, harder boys, you know I like it.” The man drawled, and he tongued at the new split in his lip, his blood smearing on the white paint below his cheek.

Sam sighed, and rubbed a hand down his face as he watched. It appeared his cargo was going to be a difficult one to keep quiet, and Sam had no idea what he had signed himself up for. As they removed his cuffs, Sam tore his gaze away from the man’s face, not wanting to catch his eye, lest their attention and comments be drawn towards him instead. Fortunately, the man didn’t seem to look at him, and one of the armed guards hauled him from the bonnet. They cuffed his hands again, in front of him this time, before walking him around the truck with one hand gripping the collar, and the other firmly holding his upper arm. Sam watched in the rearview mirror, as they sat the man down and buckled him in, before he was interrupted by Harrison standing by his window.

“Here, take this.” Harrison was holding out the keys to the cuffs, and a small, flat device of some kind. It had a sliding cover, with a large button on the face of it, and behind him, Sam felt the prisoner’s eyes settle on the back of his head. He had gone very, very still. “If he starts getting mouthy, or tries to run, press the button to give him a quick shock. If you want to increase the voltage, keep it held down. It hurts him like a bitch, but it’s not lethal. Not to him, anyway.”

“I won’t need it, but thanks.” Sam took the device, and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He glanced back at the prisoner, who was now smiling to himself, and looking out of the window at the brightening sky. He appeared to be being well behaved for now, but Sam knew that could change at any second. 

“Don’t let him get under your skin, and don’t give him any chances. The signal’s going to get patchy out there, so any problems, you’re on your own until the next outpost or radio tower.” Harrison warned him, before he took a step back from the truck. 

“I got this, thanks. You get those gates open, and I’ll be on my way.” Sam gave the man in the backseats one final glance, before he pulled the truck away from the squad, and headed towards the main exit of the safe zone. The man was still staring out of the window, his cuffed hands resting in his lap. He had a bright red bruise blooming on his jaw, and was sucking the blood from his lip, but despite the pain, his posture was relaxed, as though he had no reason to worry. 

The quiet serenity in the car was short lived, though, when barely a minute later, Sam heard the man’s voice trail up from behind him.

“So, you’re the unlucky chump they’ve saddled with transporting me, hm?”

“Hm.” Sam grunted, not turning around to look at the man again, as he drove steadily towards the heavily reinforced gates he could see at the end of the road. 

“How much did they pay you?” The man leaned forward, and his cheek pressed against the back of the passenger-side headrest. “You look like the strong, silent type. Someone who drives a hard bargain for your services.”

“None of your concern.” Sam murmured, and he slowed the truck down just enough to show the guards at the entrance the necklace he had been given. He was waved through, and as he began their long journey away from the city, the gates closed behind him with a loud groan.

“Well, I figured I ought to try some small talk, seeing as though we’ll be travelling these _fine_ highways together for the unforeseeable future.” The man deliberately stressed the word ‘fine’, as any sane person knew that the world outside was anything but. When Sam remained silent, he sat back again, and reached up to finger over the bruise on his cheek. “What’s your name, anyways? My name’s Higgs, if they didn’t already tell you.”

Sam ignored him, though, and concentrated on following the route he had seen on Die-Hardman’s map. Sam wasn’t trying to be rude, but he stood by what he had decided back at the Distribution Centre. The less this ‘Higgs’ and he knew about each other, the better. He didn’t want to give the other man any opportunity to leverage against him. 

Despite Sam giving him the cold shoulder, however, Higgs appeared emboldened by the continuous silence. He sat up straighter, and unbuckled his belt, before swinging his long legs up to sit sideways along the backseats. He watched Sam through the rearview mirror, and raised a single finger speculatively. “I think.” He paused, making sure Sam had heard him. “I think you look like a Max, or a Murphy.”

 _Seriously?_ Sam kept his expression focused, and calm, but his fingers tightened on the steering wheel a fraction. If Higgs intended on guessing his name all the way to Portland, Sam might be forced to find something to gag him.

“Hmm, Henry?” Still nothing, but Higgs continued, undeterred. “Peter? Gary?” He sounded pleased to be getting on Sam’s nerves, and they were only 5 minutes into their journey. The road ahead of them was mostly clear of debris, which Sam was pleased about, but he still weaved carefully around the larger cracks and rocks that scattered the bumpy road. There were regular patrols just outside of the safe zone to deal with the infected, but Sam knew not to get too comfortable. “Shaun?” Sam must have made some subtle movement then, a twitch of his eyelid, or a stiffening of his shoulders, as Higgs seemed to hone in on the letter S. “Steve? Simon? Sawyer?” A pause, before he raised his voice a fraction. “Sam?”

“Can you keep quiet?” Sam grumbled in exasperation, and behind him, Higgs sniggered.

“I’m right, aren’t I? _Sam.”_ Higgs drawled out his name, emphasising the vowel and licking his lips. “Just Sam? Or Samuel? Samson? Or maybe Sammy.” 

“Just Sam. Now can you shut up?” Sam glared over his shoulder, as Higgs bit down on his tongue, unrepentant. It peeked out from between his teeth, before he put on that sugary-sweet voice from before, when he’d earned that bruise on his face. 

“Okay, okay. No need to get _Samgry_.” Higgs snickered, before he stretched his legs out once more. It looked like he was done teasing, for now, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief as he focused once again on driving. He could still feel Higgs’ eyes on him, every now and again, but the other man was blessedly silent, probably revelling in his small victory. By his estimation, they had at least 6 hours until they reached the nearest town, and Sam wanted to make the most of the daylight, and the clear weather, while they could.

Sam just hoped that the next few months would get easier. They had a long journey ahead of them.


	2. Something so Pleasant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeehaw! 🍕 We are back with an update to this universe! The road trip continues, with our boys getting to know each other a little more...
> 
> *IMPORTANT*
> 
> Traditional TLS-Verse warnings apply to this chapter, including: Canon-typical violence and gore, Power Imbalance, Forced Captivity, Explicit Language!  
> For a full list of warnings, check the top notes of Chapter 1!
> 
> Hope you enjoy, let me know in the comments if you did! <3

*

"Who do you think you are?

Ha ha ha bless your soul

You really think you're in control.

Well, I think you're crazy

I think you're crazy

I think you're crazy

_Just like me"_

*

Unfortunately for Sam, it seemed that Higgs was far from done talking.

They had been driving in silence for almost 10 minutes, during which time Sam was certain the other man had finally gotten the message to leave him alone. His thoughts had started to wander towards the road ahead, and the dangers they would encounter along the way. Sam had been outside of the safe zone multiple times, during his years as a Porter. Not as far as Portland, that much was certain, but enough to know what to expect beyond the protective walls of Central Knot City. 

The further they drove from the capital, the more the landscape around them changed. Sam’s apartment was situated in the neglected outskirts, which were derelict enough, but the parts of the old city that hadn’t been encompassed by the new borders had been forsaken entirely. Rows upon rows of grey, ramshackle buildings were choked by green overgrowth, their windows caved in and their underlying structures bowed and crumbling like the remains of gigantic, concrete beasts. Sam drove slowly through the ruins, keeping an eye out for signs of movement, anything that would indicate danger.

It was no wonder, therefore, that he almost flinched when Higgs interrupted his concentration. “Where’re you from then, Sam?” Sam could hear him fidgeting in his seat, and wondered if the other man was bored. Not that he cared too much. 

“Here and there. Nowhere in particular” Sam replied vaguely, if only to fill the silence, and fend his passenger off from another round of relentless guessing. He could still hear shuffling behind him, and a quick glance revealed Higgs was playing with his collar, sliding a finger beneath it and tugging it idly.

“What did they tell you about me?”

“Nothin’ much. I didn’t ask. Don’t care all that much.” Sam steered around an abandoned car, the wreckage more rust than vehicle at this point. The tyres were little more than sagging heaps of rubber, melted by years of hot and cold and oozing down off of the chassis like wet cloth. “I know you’re a talker though, and to never take that collar off of you. So don’t even try.” 

Sam’s indifference at who he was must have stung Higgs’ ego, but whatever he felt about that dismissal was quickly smoothed over by a cool smugness. Higgs tugged at his collar, again. “Try what, Sammy?”

“You know what I’m on about.”

“Do I?” 

They were passing through an old, high end suburb, and Sam kept half an ear on Higgs as he shifted around behind him. The trunk was locked up tight, along with their weapons, so there was little chance of Higgs getting to them. Trees that had once been carefully maintained in neat little beds along the sidewalk had grown monstrous, and towering. Their roots cracked the tarmac, and the paving slabs, and had pushed back against the urban borders set by the people who had once populated the neighborhood. It was beautiful, and quiet, but it was also the perfect place for the infected to be lurking amongst the overgrowth. They needed to keep going, far beyond the fringes of the city, where the communities had been smaller, and the spaces between houses weren’t filled with waist-high grass. 

“I haven’t been this far out in over a year.” Higgs mused out loud. Sam, rather than replying, decided to just listen. “It’s a wonder how some of these buildings are even still standing, what with the Timefall. I guess they’re too stubborn to notice the world ended.” He laughed then, and Sam’s brain zeroed in on the sound. It was a soft, genuine thing, bubbling out from the man’s chest, unlike the fiendish snickering from earlier.

Sam’s train of thought was interrupted, however, when Higgs suddenly started to climb through towards the passenger seat. “Hey! What are you doing?” Sam barked. He slowed the truck, and quickly removed one hand from the wheel to close his fingers around the device in his pocket. Sam didn’t press the button, he merely hovered his thumb above the red surface of it, but Higgs didn’t seem deterred.

“Getting a better view.” Higgs’ movements were awkward, due to the cuffs on his wrists, but he managed to worm himself through with a little stretching, and twisting. When he noticed Sam holding the remote, however, he paused. Sam saw that the light on his collar was now blinking yellow, fast, like a raised pulse.

“If you’re gonna sit there, fine. Just keep quiet, got it?” Sam kept his tone low, authoritative. He activated the child locks, just in case, and made a mental note to cuff Higgs to his seat after the first break.

To his credit, Higgs settled in his seat pretty quickly after that. He smiled over at Sam, and reached up to mime zipping across his mouth, which Sam took as an indication that he could keep driving. Albeit, he still had one hand in his pocket, ready to press the button at any moment.

Blessed silence.

As the suburbs faded into the distance behind them, the graveyard sprawl of avenues gave way to open country roads. Either side of them lay abandoned fields, formerly recreational and decorative. They passed the remains of an old baseball clubhouse, the team signage above the door rusted, and sun bleached. 

They barely exchanged a word as the scenery passed them by, and Sam half hoped that Higgs would nap for perhaps a few hours, if only to make his job easier. The other man seemed to feed off of the attention of others, whether good or bad. To his relief, Higgs reached down the side of his seat, and began to recline his chair almost to a horizontal position. He leant down to remove his boots, before twisting and tucking his legs up, so that he lay curled in the plush leather. Sam spared him a glance, and found the man was looking back at him.

“Gonna use that?” Higgs gave the hand in his pocket a pointed look.

“If I need to.” Sam wasn’t the sort of man to abuse his power over Higgs. As annoying as the other man was, Sam wasn’t senselessly cruel. 

“Then I’d better stay on your good side, huh Sammy?” Higgs tucked his bent arm under his head, and with his free hand, he picked at the stitching by his cheek. 

“Hm.” Sam hummed. He wanted to remind Higgs of his promise to stay quiet, but it looked as though the man was already dozing off. Higgs had closed his eyes, having finally found somewhere comfortable for his long body, and his chest rose and fell with slow, deep breaths. His bruised skin was, by now, a bright shade of purple, and below his chin, the collar blinked a steady blue.

Sam stopped for a break, a little past noon, and he pulled the truck at an abandoned motel. Like many of the buildings they had passed, this was also dilapidated, the bright red paint faded to a dirty grey brick, and the windows thick with dust. Sam parked the truck around back, so that it wasn’t visible from the road, and spared Higgs a glance. The other man was still fast asleep, but one of his feet had slipped down into the footwell, an arm wrapped around his midsection loosely. Sam wasn’t about to let him out of his sight, even to do a quick perimeter check, so he reached across the cabin, and snapped his fingers close to Higgs’ face.

“Hey. Wake up.”

Higgs opened his eyes with a small jolt, and he turned his head this way, and that, scanning, as though he had forgotten where he was. He quickly came to his senses, however, and sat up with a deep groan. Clearly, he had been deeply asleep. “Where are we?”

“We’re stopping for an hour or so. Gotta stretch my legs, take a piss. Don’t move.” Sam popped the driver’s door, and climbed out of the warmth of the truck, and into the crisp winter air. He couldn’t hear any of the dead, and the building looked thankfully devoid of the usual signs of the infected: spores, black tar, and the glint of gold chiralium. That didn’t mean there wasn’t trouble, though. He would need to keep his wits about him.

Higgs stared out of the windshield at him, and to Sam’s relief, he stayed in place. It seemed that for once, Higgs was choosing the option of self preservation, over reckless rebellion. As Sam walked around to the passenger side door, however, he saw the shift in Higgs’ body language, the change in his expression. Before Sam could blink, the other man dove across the gap in the cabin, towards the driver’s side door. With his hands still cuffed, Higgs fell from the truck, but he quickly rolled to his bare feet, and took off in a sprint towards the road. 

It was a desperate move, ridiculous and futile. Sam ran around the front of the truck, and he reached for the remote in his pocket, as he chased after Higgs’ retreating form. “Hey! Fuck, get back here!” He gave Higgs three seconds to change his mind, but it appeared as though his cargo had no intentions of stopping. 

Sam hit the button. Higgs dropped like a stone.

The other man hit the asphalt without a sound, his arms not even raised to break his fall. As Sam watched, Higgs began to spasm, his hands balling into fists and his feet jerking and kicking behind him. His mouth had grown wide, gasping, and his breathing came out in ragged, frosted pants. He hadn’t gotten more than a few dozen steps from the car, but even when Sam removed his thumb from the button, Higgs made no attempt to move.

“I said: Don’t move.” Sam approached him with caution, noting how Higgs’ eyes were cloudy and unfocused. His hands had drifted to his collar, and he had wrapped a few fingers beneath the metal, weakly tugging as though trying to separate it from his already blistered flesh. Sam felt a small amount of guilt at adding to the man’s wounds, but his instructions to stay in the passenger seat had been clear. He couldn’t have his cargo running away not even one day into their road trip.

By now, Higgs’ heavy breathing had subsided into small wheezes, and when Sam crouched by his shoulder, Higgs’ disoriented stare turned to him. His expression, although still dazed, was full of hate. “Look, the more you try to run, the harder this’ll be. Just be good, alright? I’m only doing my job.” As Sam talked, he pressed a knee into Higgs’ lower back, and undid one of his cuffs. Carefully, Sam brought his wrists back, and secured them behind him instead. “There. I’m gonna get you up. You think you can walk?”

Higgs bared his teeth at him weakly, and Sam heaved a sigh, before he heard Higgs slur something vaguely threatening in his direction. A line of drool slipped from Higgs’ lips, and he dug his chin into the tarmac, the lock on his collar turning amber in warning. It seemed that even though Higgs wasn’t visibly threatening him, the collar could still register his heightened pulse, and the tension in his body was plainly evident. “Come on.” Removing his knee from Higgs’ back, Sam pulled Higgs to his feet by his upper arm, and his bound wrists. He waited a few seconds, to see if Higgs’ legs would support him, before he turned them back in the direction of the truck.

Despite the shock having temporarily affected his motor functions, Higgs seemed to be trying his best to walk unassisted. He huffed a breath, and licked his tongue over the front of his teeth, before his voice came out in a rough murmur. 

“Or what, you’ll kill me?”

Sam decided to dismiss that comment. 

At that moment, the distant rumble of thunder echoed in the air, and Sam turned his gaze towards the nearby hills, noting the dark grey clouds that hadn’t been there before. Higgs turned his head towards them as well, and his tired eyes squinted at the dark, burgeoning mass.

“Timefall.” Higgs’ mouth twisted around the word, and Sam felt a shiver run up his spine. The next deep breath Sam took confirmed it, as the icy winter air had begun to be tainted with the sharp, pungent stench of tar. The storm looked as though it was headed this way, and Sam estimated that they had less than 20 minutes before the rain would be upon them.

Sam ran through his options quickly, before coming to a decision. He would take Higgs back to the truck, cuff him in the back, and lock up the vehicle entirely while he checked the motel for the infected. It wasn’t ideal, as it meant leaving Higgs unattended, but he seemed to be weakened enough by the collar that Sam would have to take a chance. It wasn’t a very big building, and he could sweep it in no time at all if he was careful enough.

“Get in.” With only a little help from Sam, Higgs slumped in the back seats, his wrists still bound behind him. Sam gave him a sympathetic look, before he shut the door, and opened the driver’s side to retrieve his backpack. “I’m going to check for any infected inside the motel, then I’ll be back for you. Got it?”

“I hope they fucking bite you.” Higgs drawled out, his cheek pressed to the cool window. He was still glaring in Sam’s direction, but his shoulders were slouched in defeat. _Christ_ , Sam thought, _Die-Hardman couldn’t have picked someone else to deliver this brat?_ Sam locked up the truck, and ensured his backpack was secure, before taking off in the direction of the door to the motel. He needed to move fast. 

The place was fucked. It was weathered and overgrown on the outside, and the inside was falling apart just as badly. It was dark, and Sam swung his flashlight around as he got his bearings. A modest reception room gave way to hallways splitting in two different directions. There was an elevator and a flight of stairs beside the front desk, but thankfully no basement that Sam needed to worry about. He took a deep breath, trying to identify the usual stench of the dead, but so far, it seemed the way ahead was clear. Sam didn’t have any goosebumps on his arms either, which usually preceded getting jumped by one of the freaks. He proceeded, albeit with caution, knowing better than to get too cocky.

Sam took the left hallway first, keeping his torch pointed ahead, and his handgun raised in the direction of the beam. He kept his steps light, but hurried, combing the place for any danger lurking in the gloom. The motel wasn’t that big, thank goodness, and as he searched the complex, he picked his way around the remains of the previous world. There were suitcases abandoned in the middle of the hallways, and worn, old belongings tossed onto piles on the beds and the bedroom floors. He found a few skeletons huddled in makeshift dens, their wrinkled clothes hanging off of their bones, surrounded by empty tins of food. The place didn’t smell too musty, even after decades of neglect, but a thick layer of dust lay over everything, with the exception of one of the upstairs rooms.

Entering the room gun first, Sam noted that it appeared less derelict than the others. Someone had gone to the trouble of pushing the heavy wardrobe across the room, which had left scratch marks in the floor, and sat against the closest wall, ready to act as a barricade once the door was closed. On the desk lay an ashtray, filled with a collection of old cigarette stubbs. Beneath it, the trash can held some bloody bandages, and a discarded bottle of whiskey. Perhaps another Porter had been through here, Sam supposed, but it didn’t appear as though it was currently being occupied. The blood was old, and the room no longer smelled like smoke. It would do.

Sam hurried back to the truck, and found Higgs was still in place against the backseats. He cast a quick glance towards the hills, and saw that the Timefall was much closer, and much larger than he had anticipated. The clouds seemed to fill the entire horizon, and in the distance, flashes of light illuminated the sodden, grey landscape. They would need to be quick. Sam grabbed a few emergency supplies that they would need from the trunk: food, water, sleeping bags, and ammunition. He shoved what he could into his backpack, and slammed the doors closed, before returning to the backseats to retrieve Higgs. 

“It’s safe. Come on, Higgs.” Higgs seemed a little more alert now, as he climbed down from the bench with little assistance. Once the door was closed behind him, though, he moved a few steps away from Sam, his shoulders tense, as though he wanted as little contact with Sam as possible. _Fine,_ Sam thought. _Works for me._ “I checked the inside all over. The place is abandoned. We’ll be fine to stay if the storm lasts into the night.” Sam explained, and he ushered for Higgs to follow him inside before the rain reached them.

Once they found the safe room, Sam pointed to the bed for Higgs to take a seat, so that he could push the wardrobe into place. It took some effort, and the old wood squeaked and creaked as he shouldered it up against the door, but once it barricaded the entrance, Sam took off his backpack with a heavy sigh. They were safe, for now.

“We’ll rest here until the Timefall stops, then we’ll keep going. Got it?”

Higgs, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed, gave him a small nod. “Got it.” He still didn’t have his shoes on, having left them in the passenger seat of the truck. Still, he had tolerated the walk up to the room, and picked his way carefully among the debris on the floor. Sam was pleased that the man was no longer taking off running at any opportunity, but he wasn’t about to take any chances. Not if he wanted to take a nap. 

“You hungry?”

“I could eat.” 

Sam approached Higgs, who was clearly subdued, and seemed to be looking anywhere but him. He leaned closer, and removed one of the cuffs from Higgs’ wrist, before leading him towards the old radiator in the corner of the room. “Sit here, I’ll get you something.” He attached the free cuff to the pipe of the radiator, leaving one of Higgs’ hands free so that he could use it to eat. After that, he unzipped Higgs’ sleeping bag, and laid it out within reach of the other man, watching him tug it closer to sit on. “There, you comfortable?”

“Yeah. Being chained to the radiator really nails home the warm, fuzzy, hostage feeling.”

Sam said nothing to that, letting the conversation drop in favour of sorting out their food. He didn’t feel guilty for using the button on Higgs. He didn’t regret stopping the man from escaping. He did, however, feel it was necessary to extend a certain level of basic human kindness. Yes, Higgs was chained up, yes he was still collared, but Sam would make sure his basic needs were met, if only so that he made it to Portland in one piece. 

Stood over by the bed, Sam pored over the food contents of his backpack. He had grabbed a few tins at random, wanting to get inside and away from the rain as quickly as possible. The truck would be fine out there, metal took a lot longer to degrade under the Timefall than organic tissues like flesh and plant matter. It would last them the whole trip just fine. It had to. They would be pretty fucked if they tried to make the journey on foot.

As he brought over two tins of baked beans, and a tin of spam each, Sam noticed that Higgs was once again rhythmically tugging at the collar around his neck, separating the metal from his bruised skin, which looked all the more swollen from the recent shock. The other man could still breathe, but the pressure on the burns must have been irritating him. The food was cold, and it would be salty as hell, and Sam passed it over with a bowl, a spoon, and a bottle of water to help wash it down. 

“Here, no complaints.”

To his credit, Higgs didn’t even so much as raise an eyebrow in complaint. Instead, he took the food and balanced it on his knees, before he began to dig in almost immediately without so much as a ‘thank you’. It wasn’t until half a minute later, when he was unscrewing the cap on the bottle of water, that Higgs glanced Sam’s way, and gave him a grateful nod. “Thanks.”

Sam, who was sitting a good 3 metres away on the bed, was taking a lot longer to eat his meal. He wanted to savour it while it lasted, the fresh water especially. Before Sam had even gotten halfway through his bowl, Higgs was scraping his own clean noisily, and he chugged down the rest of his water afterwards. Once he was finished, Higgs set the empty bottle and bowl to one side, and laid down on his back, a hand resting over his belly as he stared up at the old, flaking ceiling. 

It appeared as though Higgs was sated, so Sam didn’t bother the other man. Instead, he set about cleaning up their shared space, trashing the empty tins and sorting through the supplies he had grabbed from the truck. Outside, the Timefall had begun to hammer against the window panes, and had already turned the parking lot into a quagmire of mud and tar. Occasionally, lightning flashed across the horizon, and a deep rumble of thunder shook the foundations of the ancient motel.

With nothing to do now but rest, Sam removed his boots, and climbed up onto the double bed, curling up on his side with the button held close to his chest just in case. It was risky, sleeping so close to Higgs and his mercurial mood swings, but the chain of the handcuffs was short enough to mean his cargo wasn’t of any danger to him, so long as that radiator remained attached to the wall.

Sam managed to sleep on and off for a few hours at a time, occasionally being awoken by a particularly loud boom of thunder, or his own paranoia about sleeping so close to Higgs. The Timefall storm lasted well into the night, and only started to lighten up close to sunrise, when the first few rays began to creep in through the shitty, old blinds. It was at this moment he was rudely awoken by a loud sound of rattling from over by Higgs’ corner, as the other man shook the chain of his handcuffs against the radiator, a smirk on his face.

Grumbling to himself, Sam sat up on the bed, and rubbed a hand down his face, yawning into it before he stretched both arms above his head. He had slept well, despite the interruptions, and the bed had been comfortable on his worn muscles. Higgs was looking at him expectantly, and when Sam met his eyes, he gave another emphatic jingle of his cuffs.

“Rise and shine, Sammy boy.” Higgs didn’t sound sincere, at all. Sam hoped he wasn’t intending on being a pain in the ass like this all day. Instead of rushing to his side, like Higgs probably wanted, Sam once again lay on his back, and stretched from his head to his toes, cracking his joints and making the other man wait just a little longer. “Sammy.” Another rattle of the cuffs. “I need the bathroom, so get your ass up and over here.”

“I’m coming, keep it down.” Sam yawned into his knuckles, before padding on socked feet towards his cargo. That’s when he noticed that Higgs’ collar was blinking amber, a warning of potential danger. Sam paused in his approach. “Can you wait 10 minutes?” 

“No, not really. Come on, please?” Higgs gave an impatient squirm of his hips. His tone and expression were finely crafted, genuine enough, but Sam could read through his attempts at authenticity. They both knew that Higgs was anything but polite and friendly, but Sam wasn’t about to make him piss on the floor. Reaching into his pocket and producing the button, Sam held it aloft in warning, as he undid the locks on the cuffs. 

“You’ve got 5 minutes, hurry up.” Sam let Higgs past him, and he watched as the other man strode to the closet sized bathroom by the door of the motel room. He shut the door behind himself, and Sam was left once again in silence to contemplate what he was doing with his life. Why had he accepted Die-Hardman’s contract? He could be delivering other, less sentient, less dangerous substances around Central Knot right now, instead of babysitting a terrorist that would absolutely stab him and leave him for dead given the opportunity. Sam shook his head, as he packed up their belongings and sipped his half finished water. “Gonna put him in the backseats again. No special treatment, unless he earns it.” He muttered to himself.

“Got any more of those beans?” Higgs, who had finished his business, was shuffling back into the room, his arms stretched above his head and his eyes scrunched shut as he flexed his tired muscles. 

“Sure, here.” Sam waited until Higgs had finished stretching, before tossing a tin his way. As the other man cracked open the tab, ripped off the lid, and began to chug the contents. Sam zipped up his backpack, and checked the ammo in his handgun as he spoke. “After yesterday, you’re in the backseats again. If you’re good, you can earn your way back to the front. Maybe we won’t even need the cuffs, by the time we get to Portland.”

Higgs, who had been listening as he gulped down his cold breakfast, almost snorted into the salty, tomato sauce. Licking his lips, and lowering the nearly-empty tin, he regarded Sam with an unimpressed sneer. “You think you can make me behave with a couple kind words and some good-cop treatment, Sammy? Don’t you know who I am? Who I was?”

“Don’t care. Know who you are now, and that's a pain in my ass.” Sam brushed him off, turning his back to Higgs, who was scowling at him. Silence fell between them again for a minute, as Sam zipped up the last of the pockets on his backpack. He eyed up his unfinished bottle of water, wondering if Higgs would want the rest. “You thirsty?” Sam glanced over his shoulder, and froze at the sight of Higgs barely a few feet away, the sharp lid from the tin clutched in one hand, and his eyes fixed on the soft skin of Sam’s throat. They both jumped back, and Sam’s hand flew to the button in his pocket, his other held out placatingly. “Hey now, stay right there.” He warned, and for his part, Higgs’ upper lip twitched in a snarl, before he tossed the empty tin and the lid aside into the trash. Higgs raised his hands in surrender, and Sam was quick to step closer and link his wrists together once more. “Can’t you just be a bit more chill about all this?” 

“Don’t have to, don’t want to.” Higgs replied petulantly, squaring his shoulders and flexing his fingers and wrists. His collar was back to a steady blue, so Sam felt safe enough to let go of the chain of the cuffs and start pushing the wardrobe away from the motel room door.

They made it outside with minimal, awkward conversation, and once they were downstairs, Sam was quick to lock Higgs in the back seats. He tossed Higgs’ boots into the back as well, and Higgs grunted in thanks, as he bent to tug them on. The air outside was crisp with the sharp scent of chiralium, and Sam could see deep puddles along the roadsides. The water was harmless now, but it had been lethal as the drops had precipitated from the sky. The tar had receded, and darkened the edges of the murky water, and small, paper thin clusters of frost had gathered on the exterior of the motel, the grass, and the body of the truck. It looked like they were in for a cold morning, but the interior of their vehicle would be comfortable and warm.

The adrenaline of almost having his throat carved out had worn off now, and as Sam started the engine of the truck, he could feel Higgs’ eyes staring against the back of his head. “If it’s any consolation, it ain’t nothin’ personal, Sammy.” Higgs had leaned forward a fraction, his cuffed hands resting in his lap, and Sam watched him in the rearview mirror. “I told myself, when I was picked for this little venture of Bridges’, that when the day came that I was finally shipped out and bundled into a van, I wouldn’t go quietly. I ain’t about to sit tight and shut up like a piece of cargo. Whoever it was delivering me was gonna have to work for it.”

“What do you want from me then, hm?”

“All in good time, Sammy. All in good time.”

Sam rolled his eyes, and began to pull away from the motel with one final glance back at the dilapidated building. It would have been nice to have spent longer in a place with an actual bed, but they had a long way to go until they got to Portland, and after the events of earlier, Sam was eager to make that journey as short as possible.


	3. Give me Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeehaw! 🍕 Two updates so close together! Hope you enjoy <3  
> Higgs continues to test Sam's patience, but maybe they can find some common ground?
> 
> *IMPORTANT*
> 
> Traditional TLS-Verse warnings apply to this chapter, including: Canon-typical violence and gore, Power Imbalance, Forced Captivity, Explicit Language!  
> For a full list of warnings, check the top notes of Chapter 1!
> 
> Hope you enjoy, let me know in the comments if you did! <3

*

"I'm exactly where I wanna be,

_But I'm a long way from home."_

*

By the time the sun had fully risen, they left the motel far behind in the truck’s mirrors. Driving down the straight road, Sam had watched the abandoned structure shrink smaller and smaller, until it was barely a pinprick on the horizon. 

As he drove, Sam contemplated the next few months ahead, one hand on the wheel, and the other arm resting against the sill of the door. He hadn’t gotten the chance to eat any breakfast, but he had ripped open the foil on a protein bar with his teeth when his rumbling stomach got too loud to ignore. 

Behind him, Higgs was once again stretched out along the bench, staring out at the landscape and steaming up the window with his warm breath. Sam wondered what he was thinking about, and what his cryptic reply had meant earlier. It most likely could have been Higgs being his usual theatrical self, but it could also have been a warning to a deeper plot behind his little bouts of rebellion. What if Higgs had somehow managed to organise a convoy to intercept them on the road? What if, around the next corner, there was a blockade of cars and terrorists looking to collect their fearless leader? It was easy to get wrapped up in paranoia, and between that and the earlier confrontation, the tension in the truck was thick enough to cut with a knife. 

Sam was forced to slow down when they reached a blocked intersection, filled with the remains of cars that had crashed together, and been swarmed by the dead. The sight of the withered remains of the vehicles made goosebumps rise on the back of Sam’s neck, and the blackened husks were dotted with glittering clusters of chiralium. It was clear the density of the spores was thick enough to be dangerous, given the presence of the gold crusted, fungal growths. Getting out and pushing the road clear of cars was out of the question. They would need to drive carefully around the blockade, through the long grass and debris. Sam knew the thick tread on the truck’s tires could withstand a bit of off-roading, but he didn’t know what was lurking in their surroundings, just out of view. 

A quick glance over Sam’s shoulder showed that Higgs had sat up in interest, and was leaning his elbows on the edges of the front seats, squinting at the wreckage. Higgs appeared to be staring at something Sam couldn’t see, and the distant nature of his gaze made Sam’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

There were some in this world that could see, or ‘sense’ the dead, in a way that defied explanation. Sam had met a handful of them in his time as a Porter, and each had varying levels of sensitivity towards the virus. The first one he had met, an older Porter that had joined Sam on a delivery, had explained it to Sam as best as he could. He told Sam that when he was near the dead, his skin would start to crawl, and he could tell before entering a building whether he was about to run into a swarm or not. This ability had helped to keep the old Porter alive all this time, but there were some even more remarkable than that. Sam had heard rumours over the years of people who could walk among the dead unhindered, who were immune to the virus, and could breathe in the deathly spores without so much as a cough. Sam had never met anyone like that, and he doubted they even existed. They were just another fantasy story, like the superheroes of the old world, and Sam had given up believing in saviours a long time ago.

“You can sense them too, can’t you?” Higgs’ voice drawled from behind him, tearing Sam out of his reveries. Where he was gripping the wheel, Sam’s arms were tense, the hairs on his skin standing up. It was a hard thing to define, this strange sense of foreboding that overcame him whenever the scent of tar filled his nose. 

“Yeah, don’t know how many, though.” 

“Two by the old bus, one in the minivan, and one in the grass to the left.” Higgs pointed, before clearing his throat. “Head around to the left. Odds are better.” He sat back again, and Sam glanced over his shoulder at him, getting a raised eyebrow in response. “If you don’t want to trust me, that’s fine. I’m just giving you some friendly advice.”

Sam weighed up his options, considering the pros and cons of listening to Higgs’ plan. On the one hand, Higgs could be luring him into a trap, intent on watching the infected chow down on his guts before making a getaway. However, he could also be trying to offer an olive branch for his earlier behaviour, and Sam would be the asshole for declining him the opportunity. 

Deciding to take the chance, Sam threw the wheel around to the left, and kept a close eye out for any figures amongst the cars. The truck rocked on its suspension as it left the flatness of the road, and as they pushed through the tall grass, the tar soaked ground squelched and sunk under the weight of their cargo. 

True to Higgs’ word, Sam was halfway around the intersection when a figure rose up from the grass, stumbling towards the truck and dragging one leg behind itself. Their body was soaked through from the rain, and dripping with tar, and their head and hands were crusted over in thick, glittering crystals of chiralium. The growths seemed to split through the skin, and their teeth were pushed crooked by a bloom of gold obscuring the top half of their face in thick, jagged layers. The creature snarled as it approached, alerting the others that were scattered around the blockade. Putting his foot down, Sam heard the tyres spin as they gained traction on the saturated ground. The truck’s engine roared, and they pulled away quickly from the infected, leaving them trailing behind in the mirrors. 

As they left the intersection behind, the crawling sensation left Sam’s skin, and he relaxed his grip around the wheel. The road ahead was clear, and with the truck putting a comfortable distance between them and the dead, he could breathe normally again. 

“See? I can be helpful.” Higgs chimed in from the back seats. Sam sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and gave Higgs a soft grunt in reply. “What, no ‘thank you’?”

“Thanks. There, you happy?” The relief at avoiding the dead was quickly souring with Higgs’ constant needling. Couldn’t he leave Sam alone for 5 minutes? 

Higgs smiled at him sweetly, looking entirely too pleased with himself. However, what came out of his mouth next had Sam almost swerving into the road. “You’re real hot when you get mad, you know that?”

_“What?”_

“Gets a guy real hot and bothered.” Higgs licked his lips, and sunk lower in his seat. He spread his knees, and raised his chin defiantly, his cuffed hands draped over his lap. For his part, Sam reached to one side to pop the glove box open, and rattled around the contents for a CD he had spotted in there earlier. It wasn’t an artist Sam recognised, but the music would provide some form of distraction from Higgs’ taunting words. “Come on, Sammy. A Porter like you, on the road and on the job all days of the year. You gotta be gagging for some action.” The leather of the bench creaked as Higgs shifted his hips impatiently, and he bit his lower lip, before his voice grew soft, alluring. “It’s been a while, huh? No one to hold, fuck, or suck you off on the road. You’re probably fit to pop off at the slightest breeze, right Sammy?”

Sam took a deep, calming breath, and shook his head. He wouldn’t reply to Higgs, wouldn’t make things any more worse than they already were. Higgs was shameless, openly flirting like he hadn’t tried to kill Sam earlier that day. He turned up the music, and hunched his shoulders, refusing to look in the mirror as Higgs continued past the rumble of the electric guitar. 

“Now I ain’t sayin’ I’m offering, but I’m feeling mighty deprived myself. Months in a cell all alone with no one but my right hand got old real fast.” Higgs waited a beat. “What I wouldn’t do for a thick pair’a hands like yours.” 

“Can you shut up?” Sam growled, having finally reached the end of his tether. He should gag Higgs, make him sit in humble silence from here to Portland.

“Never learned how.” The silver tongued devil caught his gaze in the mirror, and his smile was kinder than before. “Or if I did, maybe I forgot somewhere between then and now.”

“You want something to read? Will that keep you occupied?”

“What’ve you got? Porn?” 

“No, just some magazines. You want them or not?” Sam unzipped his backpack, which was sat on the passenger seat, and tugged out a wrinkled collection of biker magazines. They were well worn, and Sam had read them a few dozen times since picking them up from the basement of a forgotten corner store. “They ain’t that exciting, but I’m working on the crosswords at the back of these.”

“Crosswords?” Higgs sounded like he liked the idea of that, and he had sat up with interest. He took the magazines in both hands, and rested them on his knees.

“Yeah, can I trust you with my pen?”

“Probably not.” Higgs cast him another small, genuine smile, before he flipped to the back pages of the first one, and folded the cover underneath it. He smoothed his forearm across it a few times, before accepting the pen Sam had also held out to him. Behind him, Sam heard the click of the pen, before the cabin returned to a comfortable silence beneath the rock music. Sam turned down the volume to a background hum, and tapped his fingers on his knee to the beat.

_Much better._

The sudden flip in Higgs’ behaviour, from outwardly harassing Sam, to calmly sitting with one leg crossed over the other with the crossword, was like day and night. Sam could have easily chalked it up to Higgs getting bored with him, but he also suspected that despite Higgs’ dismissal of his ‘good cop’ strategy, Higgs appreciated being treated more like a human being. 

Sam had noticed it yesterday, when he had called Higgs by his name before guiding him inside the motel. The other man had seemed a touch much more attentive after that, and now, as Sam appealed to Higgs’ intellect, Higgs seemed much more settled. Higgs had to possess some higher degree of intelligence, to have become that dangerous, infamous terrorist that Bridges had struggled to arrest for 5 years. With all of their man power and supplies, the fact he had eluded their capture, and continued to rattle Die-Hardman after the fact, meant that Sam wasn’t dealing with a regular run of the mill criminal.

Perhaps that’s why dismissing Higgs’ ego, once early on in their trip, then earlier over breakfast, had caused Higgs to react with such vehemence. Higgs struck Sam as the sort of person to enjoy the fear and the respect his reputation upheld. By disregarding his infamy, Sam was placing Higgs in the same category as every other ordinary person. That must have stung his pride, and knocked him down a peg or two. Perhaps the next town they visited would have a library or a bookstore, and Sam could let him grab a couple of paperbacks to occupy his mind with. It wasn’t that he cared for Higgs, he cared about maintaining this silence for as long as possible.

An hour later, however, Higgs had finished the first crossword, and had begun to read the magazine out of interest. Sam felt his eyes land on the back of his head, and a quick glance up confirmed that Higgs was staring at him.

“Where are we?” Higgs asked.

“We’re about halfway to the checkpoint. Had to double back since the main route was impassable. We’re making good time, considering the condition of the roads.” Sam had seen a few more ragged corpses staggering aimlessly around the roads, but none had gotten close enough to cause concern. The sky was also clear, and devoid of Timefall, which was a blessing, as the roads were already slippery enough with patchy ice as it was. 

“Can I get in the front yet? I’ll be good and read my magazines.” Higgs leaned forward, and rested his cheek against the back of the passenger headrest. He fluttered his eyelashes at Sam, who bristled initially at the suggestion. Higgs was acting like he hadn’t tried to kill him earlier with a tin lid. This was exactly the kind of manipulative bullshit Die-Hardman had warned him about.

“Not yet. If you’re good, I’ll consider it, okay?” Sam was sticking to his guns. An hour of silent reading wasn’t good enough behaviour to quantify riding shotgun.

The charming smile immediately dropped from Higgs’ face, and he returned to that earlier, sullen stare. Slumping back in his seat, Higgs once again occupied himself with the magazine, only this time, he was doodling in the margins with the pen, scribbling monsters and words across every small patch of blank space. 

Higgs continued to scratch away at the pages for another hour, then a second, before Sam slowed down, and pulled over beside an old, crumbling cottage. The action caught Higgs’ attention, who looked up from his artwork and gave Sam a suspicious squint.

“Come on, but you stay cuffed, got it?” Sam grabbed his backpack from the passenger seat, and pointed at the empty space. Not needing to be told twice, Higgs bent forward, and tossed the magazines onto the dashboard. With haste, he climbed through into the front, and buckled himself in before Sam could change his mind. Sam watched him settle, his fingers drumming on the wheel with patience. At least up front, he could watch what Higgs was doing with that pen. “You keep your hands to yourself, got it?” 

“Promise.” Higgs gave him another one of those innocent, ‘Who, me?’ looks, before he resumed doodling in the first magazine. The CD had once again looping around to the first song, but Sam didn’t pause it, having enjoyed the music resonating through the cabin. When porting with his own two feet, Sam had his own walkman that he listened to to while away the time. He kept one earbud out, in case of danger, but the small device had helped to make some of the longer, heavier jobs more bearable. The walkman was currently buried in his backpack, wrapped up in an old shirt to keep it from getting damaged, and Sam had zero intention of taking it out while Higgs was around. The other man was unpredictable, and Sam would be devastated if Higgs destroyed it out of spite during one of his mood swings.

Halfway through the third loop of the album, Higgs either got bored of drawing, ran out of ideas, or both. He flipped the magazine closed, and placed all three of them back in the glovebox, keeping the pen out to fiddle with. His attention once again turned to Sam, and the latter could almost hear the cogs turning in his brain, as he rustled up another round of nosy, inescapable questions.

“Have you always been a Porter?” 

“Does it matter?”

“What, I’m not allowed to ask questions about my road trip buddy?” Higgs emphasised the ‘B’ in buddy, before he grinned from ear to ear. Sam gave him a long, unimpressed stare. Higgs was persistent, wasn’t he? Sam didn’t want to talk about himself, and let the silence drag out until Higgs continued. “How about we take it in turns? I ask a question, then you ask one?”

“Do we have to?” Sam could see they were approaching another small town, and sat up straighter, turning the music off. He needed to concentrate in case there were infected, or raiders.

“It would help pass the time, wouldn’t it?”

“Fine.” Sam was having to steer carefully now, but he indulged Higgs if only to be polite.

“So...I’ll ask again. How long have you been a Porter?” Higgs had turned back to the view outside the truck too. It all seemed quiet, for now, but that could change at any second.

“Past 20 years or so? Been a long time.” Sam shrugged his shoulders. He could barely remember a time when he wasn’t a Porter, and he didn’t like to think of the days before that.

“Yeah?” Higgs sounded impressed. For once, he wasn’t making fun of Sam, or goading him. He sounded genuinely curious, which threw Sam for a loop.

“What were you doin’, when they caught you?” Sam quickly diverted the conversation back onto Higgs, who shrugged in nonchalance.

“I was planning to bomb the New Jersey safe zone.” Sam couldn’t fault Higgs for telling the truth, at least, but the confession horrified him.

“Why the fuck would you do that? You hate people, or something?” 

“Never had much reason to like people, or trust them.” Higgs paused, drawing small, contemplative circles on his knee with the end of the pen. “I did try, but it wasn’t for me.”

“So what, people disappoint you, so you’d rather kill a whole city?”

"Give me some credit, Sam. I'm a little more complicated than that."

"So's everyone else. That doesn't exactly explain things."

“Well, I hardly went from a bright-eyed boy to committing acts of national terrorism overnight.” Higgs snapped, and Sam caught the shift of colours in his collar: blue, to yellow, to blue again. Sam would have missed it if he had blinked, but whatever violent intentions had simmered in Higgs’ brain seemed to fade, as the man stared out of the passenger window, and took a deep, steadying breath. Higgs was white knuckling the pen, and was slowly, harmlessly, stabbing it down against the top of his thigh. Perhaps he was imagining it going elsewhere into Sam, but for now, the repetitive motion didn’t seem to be escalating beyond the self-soothing gesture.

Sam swallowed nervously, now driving at a slow speed through the town so that he could focus on Higgs, and their surroundings. Their back and forth questioning had come to an abrupt end, and the space between them felt tense now, stifling. Higgs didn't seem to want to clear the air, so after a minute, Sam tried to continue, albeit awkwardly. “You uh, you wanna talk about it, then?”

“Do you care?” Higgs was back to his usual snarky, self. He seemed done with playing nice, and was putting up boundaries again. Sam watched him lift the pen to his mouth, and start to chew on the lid, but he didn’t pester Higgs to stop it. Everything about Higgs’ body language screamed that he was feeling uncomfortable, and the last thing Sam wanted to do was criticise him unnecessarily. 

“Sure, try me.”

At his casual answer, Higgs once again looked Sam’s way, the mistrustful expression on his face giving way to curiosity. It seemed as though Sam’s willingness to talk openly was drawing him in, but before he could elaborate, Higgs’ mood suddenly swerved. He tossed the pen into the glove box, pulled his legs up, and turned his head to face the window. “Nah. Forget I said anything.”

“Well, alright then. If you say so.” Sam tugged his backpack up into his lap, and pulled out a small metal tin, giving the contents a rattle to get Higgs’ attention. “You want a candy?” Higgs scowled over at him, but his expression softened at the sight of the tin. He didn’t say anything, but Sam could sense he was tempted all the same. After a beat, Higgs took the tin, and pulled it open to inspect the contents: round, boiled sweets, that glittered up at him and were covered in a light dusting of icing sugar. “Just one, I’ve been trying to make these last.” Sam added, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Higgs lean close to inhale the fruity scent of the tin. They were artificially flavoured, but the bright colours, paired with the tempting sweetness, had Higgs eagerly scooping out a single cherry one. He licked the powdered sugar from it, before placing it in his mouth, and Sam noticed the way he shivered in surprise, and delight.

“Been a while since you’ve had anything like that, huh?” Sam retrieved the tin, and picked out a pineapple flavoured one for himself. He had never eaten a fresh pineapple before in his life, only tinned rings and chunks from rarely-found cans. It was his favourite, though, and the acidic, sweet taste lit up his taste buds as he waited for an answer from Higgs.

“You could say that.” Higgs sucked on the candy for a few seconds, and turned it over in his mouth, his teeth clicking against the hard surface. “And no fair, I thought we were taking it in turns.”

“Go on, then. But I ain’t gotta answer if I don’t like the question. Got it?”

“Got it.” Higgs seemed pacified once again, and the awkward tension from before had been replaced with a comfortable quiet. “What’s your full name?”

“I just prefer ‘Sam’.”

“I guess that’s you refusing a question, huh?” Higgs ought to have seen his response coming a mile off. It was a throwaway question, then, one to help break the ice. 

“My full name wouldn’t be much use when I don’t like goin’ by it.” Sam shrugged. 

“That’s true.” Higgs drummed his fingers on his knees, watching the buildings of the town pass them by. “Your turn.”

“Okay, um. What’s your favourite food?” Sam had no idea what to ask. This was one of the longest conversations he had had in a while. “Tinned food, that is.”

Higgs looked thoughtful, and he uncrossed, and re-crossed his legs as he considered his answer. “Tinned raspberries, or tinned orange slices.”

“Oh yeah, both of those are great.” Sam mused, rubbing a hand over his jaw and scruffing up his facial hair. It was getting a little too long for his liking. He would trim it at the next checkpoint. “What about the non-tinned ones? Pretty rare to find that sorta stuff growing nowadays.” 

“Not had one of the fresh ones in a long time. I’d like to, though.” 

“Me neither, though I’m sure there are some still growing somewhere, in orchards, greenhouses and stuff.” Sam gestured vaguely towards the horizon. He was pleased that the conversation had segued into a more neutral topic.

“Maybe. I’d wager the further we get from the cities, the more likely that’ll be.” Higgs cleared his throat, and tilted his head back, scratching at his stubbled jaw, and the bruised skin of his neck.

“We’ll look then.” Sam couldn’t help but notice the gesture, and he once again reached for his backpack. “Hey. You want some painkillers? I got some.” 

“I’ll take them if you’re offerin’” Higgs replied casually, but a widening of his eyes betrayed his eagerness for something to take the edge off. “You know, I’d feel even better without this collar on at all.”

Sam knew that the shock collar was around Higgs’ neck for a reason. He didn't want to sour the mood in the truck again, but Bridges weren’t taking any chances in removing it, and neither would he. “I can’t do that, Higgs.”

“Just until the bruising fades, then we could put it on again after?”

“Die-Hardman said not to.” Sam shook his head, passing Higgs a pack of pills and a water bottle.

“Die-Hardman doesn’t know shit.” Higgs removed the candy from his mouth momentarily to swallow down two pills, followed by a few refreshing mouthfuls of water. “He works for the President as her good little lapdog, so he’s a bigger liar and crook than me.”

“That’s true, but he’s also the one paying me to take you to Portland.” Sam frowned. A job was a job, at the end of the day, and Sam didn’t have the energy to care too deeply about the politics of it all. He knew Bridges conducted some shady shit, and given that they hadn’t shot him on sight, Higgs was probably a part of that. Die-Hardman definitely hadn’t told him the whole truth, but whatever was going to happen at Portland wasn’t any of his concern.

“Fine.” Higgs rolled his eyes. He sat up, suddenly, and poked his finger at the passenger side window. “Hey, that’s a library. Can we go, Sam?”

“Where?” Sam slowed down again, following Higgs’ pointing finger until he spotted the worn shopfront along the terrace of buildings. The windows and door were frosted over with ice, and the lettering on the sign above the double doors were worn to almost the same cream as the background. Sure enough, though, it was a library. They could make a small pitstop, but not for long. “Alright, but you stick close to me.” There were sure to be infected nearby. He didn’t want Higgs wandering off and getting himself bitten. 

“Uh-huh. Do I get a weapon?” Higgs gave him that innocent, sweet smile that probably worked on old ladies and children, but Sam was less than convinced.

“No, you don’t.” 

"Spoilsport."

Sam climbed out of the truck, and hopped down onto the sidewalk, which was covered in a light dusting of snow. It crunched under his feet, and under the freshly fallen flurry, Sam could see evidence of further footprints up and down the road. A chill down his spine informed him that the dead were also nearby, and Higgs also seemed to be taking a pointed interest in their surroundings. Sam kept his handgun out for now. 

Around the passenger side, Higgs knocked on the window, unable to join him due to the child locks keeping him in. Sam abandoned his survey of the street, and quickly freed him, and once they were both standing outside the library, Sam gave him a stern stare. He didn’t want a repeat of the motel incident, not when they were clearly in the company of the infected. “No wandering off.”

“Are we shoppin’ together then?” Higgs grinned down at him, giving him a nudge with his elbow before stretching his arms above his head,

Sam flinched back from the nudge, and shot Higgs a scowl. “You have 15 minutes, then we’re leaving. Can you handle that?”

“30?” Higgs bargained with him, gesturing to the building. “It’s a big place, Sammy. Come on.” 

“Fine, but no more.”

“You got it, Sammy.” Higgs flashed him a dangerous smile, and together, shoulder to shoulder, they walked towards the doors.


	4. California Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! 🍕 I was going to finish this chapter up this weekend, but then learned it was Norman Reedus' birthday today, and I simply had to finish it!  
> Hope you all had a great holiday and that this new year will be kinder to us. If not, there is always comfort fic :''') 
> 
> Higgs and Sam make a small pit stop along the way, and Sam finds out some surprising truths about his cargo. Higgs continues to be a little shit, but perhaps he is growing a soft spot for our Sammy? Who can say? :'D
> 
> *IMPORTANT*
> 
> Traditional TLS-Verse warnings apply to this chapter, including: Canon-typical violence and gore, Power Imbalance, Forced Captivity, Explicit Language!  
> For a full list of warnings, check the top notes of Chapter 1!
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and consider leaving a review if you did! <3 I read every one of them and they really motivate me to write more ;v; <3

*

"All the leaves are brown

And the sky is gray

I've been for a walk

_On a winter's day"_

*

The air inside the library was frigid and cold, and Sam’s breath frosted infront of his face as he shouldered open the stiff doors. It was dark, gloomy, but a few shafts of light bloomed from the large storefront panes, and the series of deep set windows along the back of the building. Once inside, Sam looked back at Higgs, before gesturing for him to go ahead and look. Sam would browse behind him, he wanted to keep Higgs in his sights.

“We’ve got company.” Higgs whispered, and he glanced around the open space, wary, before turning his attention towards the signs above each aisle of books.

“I’ll keep an eye out. 30 minutes.” Sam reminded Higgs, who was already making his way towards the nature section. _Interesting_ , Sam didn’t take Higgs as someone who enjoyed the natural splendor of the world, except for maybe to destroy it. Halfway there, however, Higgs paused, and pointed to the next row of shelves over.

“Two, stationary. One’s sitting down.”

It was baffling, scary even, how precise Higgs was being about the whereabouts of the dead. Sam felt blind in comparison, even with his already enhanced senses. As he approached, much softer this time, Sam began to pick out the sounds of shallow, rasped breathing, and the occasional shuffle of fabric against the metal shelves.

“Wait here.” Sam whispered, and Higgs looked hesitant for a moment, like he wanted to protest the order. Slowly, though, he backed off to one of the study desks, and took a seat on the edge of the surface with his hands in his lap. It appeared as though Higgs was willing to be patient, this time. 

“You got it.”

Sam felt relieved that Higgs was in a cooperative mood, and he left the other man perched against the desk as he skirted around the edge of the shelves. There, just as Higgs had said, were two infected. One stood, leant against a book cart, a vacant stare in her cloudy yellow eyes and the mouldy remains of a work uniform hanging from her pasty skin. It looked as though the person they had been before had desiccated during their shift, probably from inhaling spores, the bite on their leg, or a combination of the two. The other sat, almost bent in half at the waist, and was breathing deeply, the source of the rasping that Sam had heard before. If he was quiet enough, Sam thought, he could take them both out, and they could continue their exploration in relative peace.

However, as Sam approached, knife in hand, the woman looked up at him, and a grotesque snarl left her lips as she surged away from the shelves. Her arms flailed wildly as she grabbed at him, and her gnarled hands dashed books to the floor as she stumbled after him. Sam took a few steps backwards. He brought his gun up quickly to fire off one shot at her head, and another into the temple of the other walker, which had started to crawl across the floor at his feet. Two clean shots, and both lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, but the noise had attracted the attention of a few stragglers, which began to emerge in curiosity at the loudness.

Hearing their gurgled cries, Sam was quick to double back from the aisle, and spotted Higgs, who was grappling with a third against a nearby wall. The creature was bearing down on him, its mangled jawline snapping and drooling inches from his throat. From a distance, Sam could see the chain of Higgs’ handcuffs was acting as a bit between its teeth, carving into the corners of its mouth, but his strength was clearly waning against the relentless pressure to his wrists. Sam ran over, knife held high, and jabbed the walker through the skull from behind. Tar splattered across Higgs’ shirt, and the creature slumped at their feet, but they couldn’t celebrate for long. Behind Sam, another two of the dead had caught up to him, forcing them both away from the wall to face their assailants.

Sam fired off another two shots, the first catching one of the walkers in the temple. The bullet sloughed off a large bundle of glistening chiralium from their skull, and the second shattered their face entirely. A third bullet sank the walker that was rounding on Higgs, and once they fell in a writhing heap, silence descended on the library once again. 

Higgs was breathing heavily, and he cast a wary glance in Sam’s direction, the chain between his hands slicked with gore and his shirtfront looking soaked through with tar. He wasn’t injured, just out of breath, and his raised pulse had turned the collar on his throat a steady yellow. They were safe, for now, and Sam knelt to wipe off his blade on the shirt of one of the walkers, clearing away the blood that had coated the metal. Higgs knelt to do the same, wiping the worst of the debris from his cuffs, and clothing.

“You good?” Sam asked, when he noticed Higgs was still staring at him even after they had stood up.

“Fine… just fine.” It didn’t seem like Higgs was about to elaborate, but Sam wasn’t about to force him. Let him be a little cryptic shit, if he wanted to.

“Good. That doesn’t count as part of your 30 minutes, if you were wondering.” Sam gestured with his gun at the bodies, and Higgs cracked some semblance of a smile, before he folded his arms.

“Thanks, Sammy.”

Now that the building was clear, Sam contented himself with perusing the contents at a leisurely pace. He had checked his watch, determined to stick to his 30 minute window. He didn’t want them to lose any more daylight than necessary, and this was already a divergence from their original plan. He kept Higgs in the corner of his eye, as he pored over a rack of magazines, and occasionally, he would hear the other man hum in interest, or the sound of a book being dropped to the floor. 

Picking up a travel magazine, Sam pulled up a chair, and flicked through it, careful not to rip the fragile pages. Even after half a century, the pictures were still vibrant, showing far away places that Sam had never even heard of. Most of the places looked warm, with tall trees and sandy beaches, and skies so blue they reminded him of the deep pools of Higgs’ eyes. Flipping the next page brought Sam to an image of a family, sitting at a table with an abundance of food laid out in front of them. The picture was labelled _‘Take your tastebuds on an adventure’_ , and Sam looked at each person in the shot, noting their carefree, joyful expressions, and the backdrop of a glistening swimming pool behind them. It was a snapshot in time, a brief moment in a world that no longer existed, and would never exist again. Some people were still alive from that time, but they were few and far between, getting rarer with every passing month. As Sam touched over the saturated, emerald green plants in the photograph, he tried to imagine how the tropical sun would feel on his face, how the strange foods would taste on his tongue, and what he would be able to hear, if he were sat at that table with them.

The sound of the windows rattling from the poor weather snapped Sam out of his daze, and he snapped the magazine shut, stuffing it into his backpack to read later. Higgs seemed to be preoccupied with the nature aisle still, sat on the floor with a pile of books around him, and so he allowed the other man some space in favour of wandering towards the staff break room. It wasn’t like Higgs could escape without noisily heaving open the heavy, creaking doors again, so Sam could afford to take a break in babysitting for 10 minutes.

The inside of the break room proved mostly fruitless, considering the truck already held most of the supplies they would need to get them to Portland. The coat rack caught Sam’s eye, and from it, he grabbed a pair of bulky, winter coats for if the weather turned any worse. He put his own on, and perused the cupboards and shelves, shoving perished goods and old belongings out of the way until he spotted a bright, crinkled packet of gummy worms, sitting beside an old cookie jar. Thinking of Higgs, and his positive reaction to the candy earlier, Sam squirreled these away for later, and shouldered his backpack once more. 

Crossing the library once more, Sam found Higgs where he had left him, and felt pleased that his cargo hadn’t tried to make a break for it in his absence. Higgs seemed to have learned his lesson about bolting, for now, and as Sam approached, he noticed that the other man seemed to be completely absorbed in what he was reading. A quick check of his watch concluded that their 30 minutes were nearly up, so Sam cleared his throat, catching Higgs’ attention.

“Time to go. You picked what you wanted?”

“Picked a few, yeah.” Higgs looked around at the book fort that had started to accumulate around him, and he pointed out a modest stack of 3 small paperbacks. 

“That all?” Sam cocked his head. It didn’t look very much, and there was no hiding the reluctance in Higgs’ expression.

“Thought you might object if I filled the whole truck.”

Sam sighed, and strode towards the front desk of the library. Reaching behind it, he tugged out two of the largest plastic bags he could spot, and brought them back to Higgs’ side. Kneeling next to him, Sam held out one of the bags, and gave Higgs what he hoped was a small, encouraging smile.

“Since we’re only gonna be here once, you can fill these, okay?”

As though he expected Sam to change his mind, Higgs quickly took the first bag, and immediately started to stack in some of the larger hardbacks that he had intended on leaving behind. He must have wandered between the shelves at some point in Sam’s absence, as Sam could spot titles of varying genres on the floor, some of them completely unexpected for Higgs’ infamous reputation.

“You like flowers?”

“I like all kindsa books. Mostly ones about history, science, and the world.” Higgs turned over the book on plant life in his hands, thumbing against the worn image of the wildflowers on the cover, before placing it into his bag. 

“What about this one?” Sam held up a brightly coloured book from the pile, titled _‘100 destinations to visit before you die’_. Higgs nodded in approval, so Sam began to fill his own bag to help speed the process along. “What made you want to come here, anyway?”

“Like to read, like to learn as much as I can. Plus, all this old-world knowledge will be lost some day. Might as well do our best to preserve it.”

“Oh yeah?” Sam held aloft a book on some artist, _Leonardo Da Vinci_ , for Higgs to decide on.

“That one too, and yeah. Over 2000 years ago, there used to be this great library, some kinda capital for all the world’s learning.” Higgs explained, passing Sam a larger hardback that he couldn’t fit in his already mostly-filled bag. “It burned down, and all the knowledge that was inside went up in smoke.” 

“Wow. That sucks.” Sam frowned at the tale, understanding the parallel that Higgs was making. He had never heard of that ancient library before, and it made him wonder how much of the world would never be discovered, or heard about again, now that America, and all the other countries of the world, had collapsed under the virus. He had ported the occasional collection of books or photographs for others, but in every continent, there were hundreds of crumbling libraries just like this one, and no amount of carefully curated collections would be able to preserve all of what was once known, before it turned to dust.

“You know, once upon a time, almost every bit of knowledge the world had could be beamed to us from way up in the stars, in satellites?” Higgs asked him.

“Yeah, heard about something like that. ‘The internet’?”

“Precisely.” Higgs smiled fondly, passing Sam another two books now that his own bag was full. “When the collapse happened, people couldn’t get to the internet anymore. It was all gone, just like that library.”

“Crazy, isn’t it? Seems like they took a lot for granted, back then.” Between the two of them, they had almost entirely picked up Higgs’ collection from the floor, save for a few larger volumes that wouldn’t fit in either of their bags. Sam picked up one, and tucked it under his arm, and he watched Higgs do the same. “Come on, we should be going. We ain’t got much sunlight left.”

Higgs looked back at the library shelves around them, and sighed. He clearly wanted to stay longer, but he must have understood Sam’s urgency. They still had a long way to go until they reached Portland, after all. 

They left the shelter of the library, into a flurry of snowflakes, and an icy wind that stung their cheeks. They quickly closed the distance between the front doors, and the truck, and Sam placed their bags on the backseats. Once they were secure, he hauled himself up into the driver’s side to get the engine, and the heater going. Beside him, Higgs sat shivering, and Sam dug into his backpack to pass over the coat he had snagged from the break room.

“Put this on. You’ll warm up in no time.”

Higgs shoved his arms into the coat without hesitation, and zipped it up under his chin, the faux fur hood framing the pink of his cheeks. Sam watched him get comfortable, as the truck rumbled to life, and once Higgs was settled, he produced the bag of gummy worms he had also snatched up. “You want one? Don’t know how good they’ll be, but it’s worth a shot.”

Higgs faltered for a second, before he took the packet tentatively, the plastic crinkling in his fingertips. “What are these for?” He must have been trying to spot an ulterior motive in Sam’s generosity, and Sam rolled his eyes as he dialed the heating to maximum. He wouldn’t keep it that way for long, just until the cabin and their bones had warmed through.

“Good behaviour. Try to make them last, okay?”

Higgs tore open the top of the bag, and pulled out a red and green coloured worm, placing the tip of the tail in the corner of his mouth and holding it in his teeth. “Thanks Sammy. I’ll try.” He sounded genuinely grateful, and between riding shotgun, the warm coat, the books and his new candy privilege, Sam was hoping that Higgs’ homicidal attitude had lessened towards him. At least a fraction, anyway.

They drove away from the library a minute later, leaving tire tracks in their wake in the falling snow. Sam kept the window wipers on full, scanning the road ahead for walkers, while Higgs occupied himself on a book to do with ancient history. The mood in their shared space was comfortable again, and as Higgs leafed through the pages, the gummy worm sticking out of his mouth, Sam allowed his mind to drift back to that photograph he saw in the magazine. He wondered if that family were still alive, if they had managed to find shelter somewhere in this unforgiving world. The two children might be middle aged by now, perhaps with kids of their own. Their minds would be full of stories of the old world, where food was plentiful and _‘time with the family’_ meant more than scavenging, or working to scratch out a meagre livelihood.

Higgs, unsurprisingly, was the first to break the silence, as the beginnings of an orange glow filtered across the evening sky. He was a few chapters into his book, which lay open across his lap, and his fingers played idly against the thick cover, plucking at it like the strings of a guitar.

“Thanks for stopping there, Sam.” Higgs was smiling, and Sam felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards at the sight. 

“It’s alright. I ain’t planning on treating you like shit like those Bridges guys.” 

Higgs stared at him a little longer, until Sam was forced to break eye contact. They were coming up to a bend in the road, and he didn’t want to skid on the ice, but there was also a glimmer of something new in Higgs’ stare that Sam didn’t want to analyse too deeply. “Some would say I had it coming. That Harrison, especially.” Higgs reached up to touch over the healing bruise on his jaw, and huffed a small, amused sound through his nose. 

“Yeah, maybe, but I ain’t like that.” Sam reached down into his backpack, and pulled out his bottle of water. He swallowed down a few mouthfuls, before offering Higgs the rest, which the other man took eagerly.

“Thanks. I say him, especially, because around 5 years ago, I was responsible for the explosion that collapsed the wall near their housing district.” Higgs explained between sips of the water. At the confession, Sam’s grip tightened on the wheel, but he didn’t interrupt. “The infected got in, and the roofs of the houses closest to the wall collapsed. His wife lost a leg, and an eye.”

Higgs didn’t sound smug, not like how he had when taunting Harrison to his face. His tone was neutral, stating the facts, as though telling Sam the sky was blue. When Sam didn’t reply, Higgs hunched his shoulders, and focused on his book again, his index finger doodling circles around the picture of a crumbled castle. “Felt good, at the time. Now it feels like a waste.”

“A waste?” Sam wondered if it was possible for Higgs to feel remorse for the atrocities he had committed. Perhaps the other man had had time to think in his cell at Central Knot City, space to contemplate his actions.

“I should have used bigger charges.” Higgs replied bluntly, before he turned the page and started the next chapter, leaving Sam reeing from his words. “Can you imagine the drain on the community’s medical resources, from the amount of people who were left alive?” If Higgs was joking, it was a poor excuse for one, and Sam sat up straighter, no longer willing to speculate on the morality of the man next to him. “No?”

“No. I was there, helpin’ those you hurt, asshole.” Sam grumbled, shaking his head. So much for feeling remorse.

Higgs clicked his tongue, and shrugged his shoulders in nonchalance. “Guilty as charged.”

Sam put Higgs’ toxic words to the back of his mind, and ploughed on down the highway. Scattered debris littered the road, distracting him from arguing with the other man’s caustic attitude. He wouldn’t give Higgs any excuse to feel proud of what he did.

Higgs didn’t needle him any further, and later, during the last few rays of the sun, Sam checked his map again. They were a scarce hour, perhaps two, from their destination, road conditions permitting. Sam memorised the route names, before folding up the map, and placing it back in the glove compartment. He was tired, and his ass felt numb despite the plush leather of the seats. Sam couldn’t wait to take a day off, and eat some real food that wasn’t cold or scarfed down while driving. At the thought of food, his stomach rumbled, and the hunger, combined with the proximity of their destination, spurred him on despite his lethargy.

“When we get wherever we’re goin, do you think I could get a little privacy?” Higgs’ voice cut across his focus, and Sam cast him a doubtful expression.

“Why? You got a good reason?”

“Well, a guy has needs, you know?” Higgs hinted, and Sam huffed, and shook his head in disbelief. Insatiable wasn’t a strong enough word for what Higgs was. “I mean, if you don’t want me wandering off, you’re welcome to watch.” Higgs added, one of his knees bouncing underneath his book, which lay closed on his lap.

“No, no. Definitely not.”

“Suit yourself. You’ll probably hear me anyway, I’m pretty vocal. Ask any of my previous partners. I ain’t exactly the strong, silent type.”

 _Just a few more hours._ Sam drummed his fingers on the wheel, his expression stern, as Higgs ran his mouth next to him. Truly, the ability the man had to carry on a one sided conversation, without taking a hint, was quite phenomenal. 

“How about you? You don’t look like a screamer.” 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Sam groused, and Higgs snickered, stretching his arms above his head as best as he could in the confined space. “Can’t you just shut up and read?”

“Too dark, and I’d rather chat instead.” Higgs lowered his arms again, and let out a soft yawn into his knuckles. “You got any more questions for me, Mr Wham-Bam, Thank-You Sam?”

“No.”

Not dissuaded in the slightest, Higgs leaned towards Sam with interest in his eyes. “I got one for you, then. Why’d you want to be a Porter?”

Sam pondered the question for a few seconds, before shrugging his shoulders. “I like my own company. Not fond of much else.” 

“Plenty of jobs that can offer that. A hermit, perhaps?” It had started to snow again, and the white flakes whipped past the windscreen, looking like shooting stars where they reflected the truck’s headlights.

“I like it, that’s all. Okay?”

“Sure, liar.” Higgs’ eyes widened in a daring flash, and he reached across the cabin to prod Sam in the shoulder. Sam flinched at the contact, and scowled at the darkness ahead. “You like the helping, and the smiles, and the thank-you’s that come after, too. Dontcha?”

“So what if I do, huh?” 

“It ain’t a bad thing to like. Just don’t be a liar about it.” Higgs retreated back onto his side, which Sam felt relieved about. “Used to be a Porter myself, I know the shtick.”

“You did? When was that?” Sam studied Higgs’ face critically for a few seconds. Higgs didn’t look that much younger than himself, perhaps 10 or so years. Maybe they had crossed paths without Sam even realising it, then again, Sam was certain he wouldn’t forget an attitude like Higgs’ easily.

“From when I was 15 until I was...29? I’m 44 now.” Higgs folded his arms as he recounted the years. He stared up at the ceiling, one leg crossed over the other. “I enjoyed it, until I didn’t.”

Sam did the mental math, and he worked out that he would have been near his mid twenties when Higgs started porting. Maybe a little younger. The revelation that Higgs had once been a Porter had left him a little floored. Not that it mattered now, of course, but it certainly added context to Higgs’ background.

“Surprised we didn’t cross paths. I’ve been at it almost 30 years, I’m 51 now. I think.”

“51? You don’t look it.” Higgs tilted his head, and Sam rubbed a hand over his facial hair, ignoring the flirtatious undertone of his voice. “When will you retire?”

“I don’t know. When I die?”

“Well, hopefully that ain’t any time soon, hm?” Higgs smiled up at him, before glancing over his shoulder towards the bags of books on the backseats. It was an impressive haul, and hopefully, it would keep Higgs quiet and content in the coming months. “Found some pretty interesting books, back there in the library. Got one on old world wildlife, and it’s full of photographs from people who went to study them and what not. Hard to believe they’re all gone. Personally, I think there’s still a lot out there, we just can’t find the time to rediscover ‘em with all the shootin’ and the killin’.” 

“Says you, the man who shoots and kills for fun.” Not for the first time, Sam was finding Higgs’ moods hard to predict. A moment ago, he was joking about the loss of human life at his hands, and now he was pontificating about the extinction of animal species. The man was a mystery, but Sam was sure most of Higgs’ theatrical comments were meant to tease and rile him up on purpose, if only to feed that giant ego of his. “You literally tried to kill me this morning with a tin lid.”

“Touché, but I didn’t like or trust you much then. Plus, you did shock me the day before. That stung like hell.” Higgs pointed to his neck to emphasise his point, before folding his arms again. “You were just another prick with the remote.”

“Look, I’m sorry about that, but you were running away and I didn’t have any other choice.” 

Higgs grinned at him then, his teeth a bright flash of white in the dimness of the cabin. Sam didn’t trust that face, not one bit. “It doesn't matter now, right? It’s all water under the bridge, right Sammy?”

“Right, if you say so.”


	5. Keep It Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! 🍕 Hope the year is working out well for you all so far ;v;/ I'm back with another chapter!
> 
> Higgs and Sam finally make it to the outpost, where they can finally take a breather. Our boys deserve a little rest, but angst is always lurking on the horizon >:) Bring forth the difficult conversations, forced-proximity tensions, and uncomfortable truths! Things between these two are definitely going to get scrappy before they get better <3
> 
> *IMPORTANT*
> 
> Traditional TLS-Verse warnings apply to this chapter, including: Canon-typical violence and gore, Power Imbalance, Forced Captivity, Explicit Language, Child Abuse, and Alcoholism! For a full list of warnings, check the top notes of Chapter 1!
> 
> I want to also extend a personal thank you to everyone who has read this fic, left kudos, bookmarked, and ESPECIALLY the people who have taken the time to leave a review!  
> I hope you enjoy this new installment, and consider leaving a comment if you did! <3 I read and reply to every single one, and treasure them forever <3

*

"Something is off, I can't explain

You know what I mean, don't you?

Something I saw, or something I did that made me like this

_Could you help me?"_

*

The darkened countryside swept past the truck, flashes of old and derelict structures passing by the beam of the headlights like spectres, as they travelled the last stretch to the first of many outposts.

 _Westmore_ , one of Bridge’s most eastern landmarks, was an impressive settlement. It consisted of around 35 buildings, grouped together along several main streets, surrounded by tall, metal walls. Central Knot city wasn’t too far away, so it stood to reason that Westmore was one of the more well-supplied outposts, and had survived longer than those more westerly. It was just a few minutes off from the main highway, and Sam counted the turnings to it in his head, as Higgs dozed on and off in the passenger seat. The side of his hooded head was pressed to the window, and his deep breaths tickled the fur by his cheek. 

As he drove up to the front gates, Sam took note of the guard towers on either side, and the armed men that were pointing their guns down at the truck, despite the Bridges logo littering the bodywork. Sam parked a few metres away, and wound down the window, as a pair of guards approached his door. As Die-Hardman had instructed him, he reached up to remove his necklace with the strange silver pendants hanging from it.

“Here, got this. M’delivering human cargo from Central Knot. Just passing through.” Sam jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Higgs, who had woken up as the vehicle rocked to a standstill. Thankfully, he was keeping his mouth shut, for once seeing the value in not causing a ruckus.

One of the pair took the necklace, and shone his flashlight over the rectangular tags. He was a shorter, gruff looking man, with snow dusting his hair and rough looking hands. After a few seconds, he handed it back, and jabbed a finger in Higgs’ direction. “He a prisoner?”

“Yeah.” Sam was being careful not to elaborate too much, after all, Die-Hardman had been emphatic about keeping this job a secret.

“We got a prison yard you can leave him in overnight, if you want.” 

Sam didn’t have to look at Higgs to know the other man was bristling at the suggestion. Sam didn’t like the sound of it either. Temperatures out here could easily get below freezing, and it was hardly ethical to force someone to stand in it all night like a piece of livestock.

“He’s my responsibility, I got it. Where abouts do Porters stay?”

“Wait here.” The man, and his crewmate, turned and walked back towards the nearest guard tower. Sam kept his window rolled down, so he could hear them discussing keeping Higgs in with him, and therefore with the rest of the general population. Beside him, Higgs’ knee had begun to bounce restlessly, the rustling of his trousers loud in the quiet of the cabin.

“Hey.” Sam turned his head towards Higgs, who immediately stopped the movement. Instead, he clasped his hands together, and stared out of the window at the two men who were making their way back over. The second man spoke this time, and he was only marginally friendlier than his partner.

“Porters stay on New North Road, just follow the signs around and yours is Number 9. You’re probably familiar with the usual rules, but for prosperity’s sake: No stirring up trouble, no shooting firearms without good reason, and keep your hands off of other people’s shit.” 

“Sure, thanks.”

Sam rolled up the window again, and pulled away from the guards through the front gates, which had rolled open while they were conversing. The settlement was well lit, presumably with solar powered lamps, and Sam could see signposts along the streets taking him towards their overnight house. There were a few people dotted around, either walking or standing around fire pits, but most were indoors, and out of the harsh elements. 

On the way, Sam spotted a radio tower, and the prison yard that the guard had mentioned. Inside the fencing, he could see a few washed out figures, shivering in ragged clothing by a burning barrel, and hunching against the chill. Higgs stared at them blanky, his expression neither pitying or approving. After a few seconds, he turned his head away, and stared out of the windshield instead.

“Hope this place is nice. Looks like they ain’t doing too bad here.” Sam pondered out loud. He turned onto their road, which was pleasantly free of debris and garbage, and counted the numbers on the fading, painted doors. 

Number 9 was a narrow, but tall building, surrounded by identical homes that were equally suburban and quaint, with two front facing windows downstairs, and two upstairs. The stairs leading up to the front door were old, worn brick, and Sam parked just outside of them, finally cutting the engine with a heavy sigh. _Fuck_ he was tired, but he still had a few final steps to go before he could sleep.

“All this, for us?” Higgs sounded dubious, and Sam shrugged a shoulder, before grabbing his backpack. He slung it over one shoulder, and put his hand on the driver's door, looking back at Higgs.

“Grab what you wanna bring. Let’s get in and get some sleep.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Higgs pulled through one of the bags of books from the back seats, and waited for Sam to open up his own door. Once he was free, he followed Sam willingly up the steps, and into the darkness of the doorway. After a second fumbling for the lightswitch, Sam clicked on the overhead lamp, a dim glow illuminating the open entry space. The bottom floor was open plan, with a kitchen area and island counter around to the right, and a living room with two worn couches, and a coffee table on the left. A staircase led up to what was presumably the bedroom and bathroom, and a back door led out to a small, grassy yard. It wasn’t a large home, but it didn’t feel cramped, especially after having to share a truck cabin with Higgs for the majority of their journey so far.

Sam ran a hand over the island counter, before depositing his backpack on it. He would radio Die-Hardman in the morning, but for now, he wanted to get his head down and rest. He intended to take full advantage of the niceties this place had, and if they had solar power, there was a good chance there was hot water too. 

A small cough behind him interrupted Sam’s sleep-heavy musing, and he turned to see Higgs loitering at the bottom of the stairs. He was giving Sam a curious look, and was shifting on the spot with restless energy.

“What?”

“You promised me some private time. That still on the table?”

Sam blinked for a few seconds, searching his memories, before the implication caught up to him. He grunted in approval, before giving Higgs a dismissive wave. 

“Sure, go ahead. Don’t even think about running off though, got it?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Sammy.” Higgs flashed him a sharp grin, before he turned, and dashed off up the stairs, leaving Sam to his own devices. Sam would give him 10 minutes, then he was putting Higgs to bed, whether he had had time to finish doing his business or not. 

In the meantime, Sam unzipped his coat and removed his boots, leaving both by the door. He strode to the kitchen sink, and cranked the tap open, which sputtered to life after a few muddy dribbles. Cupping his hands under the flow, Sam took a deep drink of the now-clean water, and he splashed a second handful over his face. His skin felt gritty from the road, and he would shower properly in the morning, but for now, the action helped him to feel a little more clean.

Turning the tap off, Sam wiped his hands on his trousers, before he grabbed his backpack to wander upstairs. He turned off the overhead light as he went, noting that Higgs had lit up the landing above, and trudged in socked feet to find the bedroom. The house, despite its age and the fucked state of the world, was in relatively good shape. The eggshell white paint on the walls was old, and thinly cracked in places, and the wooden flooring had evidence of scuffing and heavy footfall over the years. The top of the stairs consisted of a single hallway with two doors, and Sam discerned that the bathroom door was the first, and a single master suite behind the second.

Creaking open the bedroom door, Sam noticed that Higgs’ coat was laid out on the end of the comforter, and his boots were neatly tucked at the foot of it. His bag of books was laid next to them, and he had switched on the bedside lamp, clearly making himself at home. Given that Higgs was otherwise occupied, Sam began to remove his clothes swiftly, but opted to keep his shirt and underwear on for some degree of modesty. His back, shoulders, and legs felt stiff from the constant driving, and the second his body hit the mattress, Sam felt a wave of fatigue wash over him. He couldn’t sleep yet, not until Higgs was back in the room and shackled securely, but he could unwind his muscles and stretch out some of the aches as he waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. Down the hall, Sam heard the bathroom door violently wrench open, prompting him to sit up and reach for his gun. Higgs stormed into the bedroom a few seconds later, stripped down to only his undershirt and briefs, with a face like thunder. He zeroed in on Sam’s position, his eyes dark and venomous, and Sam quickly rolled from the bed, scooping up the button from the bedside table. He held it aloft in a threat, his gun trained on Higgs’ advancing form, but the terrorist stopped himself barely a metre away, his chest heaving, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Get this _fucking_ thing off of me, Sam.”

Sam lowered his eyes to the collar, which was a steady, warning amber. He tightened his grip on the button, and shook his head. Higgs was in no position to make demands.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“I am at my fucking wits end here, Sam.” 

“What do you mean?”

“This _thing._ ” Higgs jabbed a finger towards his own throat, and his voice came out as barely more than a growl. “Is stopping me from getting off. Every time I get close, every time I’m right fucking _there_ , it starts to turn red.” In the low light of the room, Sam noted a flush to Higgs’ face that hadn’t been there before. He looked absolutely infuriated, frustrated at the situation he was in. Sam took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders, giving his head a firm shake from side to side.

“Can’t do it, Higgs. Sorry to hear you’re stuck, but the collar stays on.”

Higgs bared his teeth at Sam, and turned his head away in disgust. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, resting his hands on his knees, that bouncing tic back again in one of his legs. As Sam watched, Higgs took a few, steadying breaths, before he regarded Sam with a surprisingly doe-eyed stare. 

“Please, Sammy…”

“Higgs-”

“I know I teased you about it in the truck, but I feel like I’m gonna die if I don’t get off. It’s more than scratching an itch, it’s personal, Sammy, emotional. I _need_ this.”

“No, Higgs.” Sam shook his head again, and Higgs watched him for a few seconds longer, his fingers digging into the meat of his own thighs, before finally, his expression morphed into one of bitter discontent. 

_There it is._ Sam thought. Sam had spent enough time with Higgs already to recognise the signs of his manipulation. First, he would try to bully his way into getting what he wanted. Then, if that didn’t work, he would softly prod and plead in an attempt to gain pity. If that still didn’t yield results, he would distance himself, lick his wounds, and try again later.

Dragging his coat off of the bed, Higgs hung it up on the back of the door, before crouching to dig around in his book bag. He didn’t say another word, or look in Sam’s direction, and Sam placed his gun back on the bedside before sitting down on the mattress once more. His heart rate had returned almost to normal, but he kept the remote in his palm, watching Higgs make a point of ignoring him as he pulled out the book on wildflowers. Now that the situation had calmed down, Sam could also notice a strange, alluring smell coming from Higgs’ direction. It wasn’t exactly like cologne, and it was definitely not soapy or clean, but it caught Sam’s attention. He made a mental note to ask Higgs about it later, when he was less likely to turn around and snap at him.

Reaching down the side of his bed, Sam tugged out Higgs’ sleeping bag, and rolled it down the top of the comforter towards him. It wasn’t much of a peace offering, but Sam hoped that Higgs appreciated the gesture. He could sympathise with Higgs’ predicament, the current world was hardly the easiest place to get 10 minutes alone in peace from the dead, let alone when wearing a shock collar. Still, he wasn’t going to remove the collar, not unless it was life threatening, which it clearly wasn’t. Higgs would survive, blue balled and frustrated, sure, but not dead.

Higgs didn’t even thank him. He grabbed the sleeping bag, and pulled it along with his book to the far corner of the room. From there, he stared Sam down, and Sam was about to ask him what was wrong, when he realised he hadn’t even attached Higgs’ cuffs to something.

“Right, shit.” With a groan, Sam once again rolled out of bed, and brought with him the keys to Higgs’ cuffs. He carried one of the pillows from the bed, too, and dropped it by Higgs’ knees as he leaned down to secure him to the radiator. Instead of fighting him, Higgs merely stretched out his arm and allowed Sam to go about his business. It was a strange dynamic, that’s for sure. On the one hand, without the collar, Higgs could and would undoubtedly murder him in his sleep. However, with Sam holding all of the control, Higgs was forced to rein in his behaviour, and play his cards carefully to ensure favour. 

As Sam lay back down in bed, and Higgs busied himself in silence with his book, Sam contemplated the past few days on the road from Central Knot to here. Sam wouldn’t say he was a bad jailer to the other man. For one, he was keeping Higgs indoors, and warm, with a pillow and sleeping bag. He was out of the elements, with the option of food if he was hungry. He had allowed Higgs to stockpile reading material for entertainment, wasting valuable daylight time and setting their journey back an hour, and he hadn’t once abused his power except for to stop Higgs from fleeing back at the motel.

On the other hand, he knew how fucked it was to keep a human being shackled to a radiator, with a behavioural device strapped to his throat that could deal excruciating doses of voltage if he raised a hand at Sam. It was a despicable imbalance of power, but Higgs wasn’t exactly your average citizen. He had openly admitted to committing violent acts of terrorism, and had no problem with killing or maiming others to achieve his goals. He was on Bridge’s most wanted list for years, and like the virus, had probably set humanity back another step on the road to survival with every snuffed out life. 

Higgs did all of this unapologetically, and yet, there were parts of him that shone through that, the human parts, that stuck out to Sam and made him more forgiving. The way he had talked about being a Porter, before, particularly struck a chord with Sam and his own background. Higgs had been right when he had accused Sam of doing his job for want of helping humanity get by, one delivery at a time. He enjoyed doing his part, being a good citizen, while remaining in relative anonymity behind the pleasantries and small talk that came at the beginning and end of his jobs. Sam never wanted to be anybody special, he just wanted to do the right thing, and perhaps, once upon a time, Higgs had wanted that too. 

Rolling onto his side, Sam stared across the room at Higgs, and imagined a younger, rookie-faced boy, strapping on his first set of cargo in what was probably a low-priority delivery. Porters rarely got given high-order tasks before they were a few months into the field, and could be trusted to complete more dangerous, lengthier contracts. He pictured the boy sitting, mid-teens and barely growing into his coltish limbs, around a fire with other Porters, listening to them swapping stories of the world beyond the safe zones in wonder. What had happened to that boy? The one who liked reading about flowers, history, and art, that mourned ancient libraries and enjoyed tinned raspberries for their sweet taste?

Sam must have fallen asleep, as when he next opened his eyes, sunlight was streaming through the open curtains, and his throat felt dry from thirst. At first, Sam wasn’t sure what had woken him up. It could have been a noise from outside, or maybe he had simply slept until his body felt fully rested. He did feel extraordinarily comfortable, and his muscles were aching a lot less. Sam was sure they would feel almost normal after a nice, hot shower on top.

A quiet, sharp, grunting noise cut across the silence of the room, and brought Sam’s hazy brain into focus. At first, he thought that Higgs was attempting to get off, _again_ , and he scowled at the other man’s tenacity. _Hadn’t he learned the first time?_

Lifting his head, Sam stared down from the bed at Higgs’ face, and found him balled up tight inside his sleeping bag. His eyes were closed, but his expression wasn’t contorted in pleasure. He looked to be struggling, in the throes of a nightmare. Sam watched him for a moment longer, as Higgs muttered something under his breath, whined again, before he flinched into wakefulness. He threw himself onto his back, and the zipper to his sleeping bag squealed open as he thrashed his limbs out of the cocoon encircling him. Around his neck, the collar pulsed in short bursts of yellow and blue, and his eyes were wild and unfocused as he tugged at the chain to his handcuffs like a trapped animal, making even more of a racket with his struggling. “Fuck! Shit!”

“Higgs? You alright down there?” Sam dared to speak, and Higgs’ head snapped to the side to look at him. He froze, every muscle in his body bunched tight, and the tendons on his neck stood out from stress. Slowly, Higgs seemed to come to his senses, and he sat up against the wall, kicking the offending bag off of his toes and scruffing his hands through his hair.

“Fuck...fucking shit.” Higgs gave it another shove with his toes for good measure, before drawing his legs up to his chest and hanging his head between his knees. With a quiet rattle of the chain on his wrist, he tucked his arms over the top of his skull and neck. He was shivering, silent, but Sam didn’t pressure him for a response. Eventually, he turned his head a fraction in Sam’s direction, peeking out from under his messy hair. “Fuck...I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Sam was sat up as well by now, and he scratched idly at his bare ankle under the duvet. If he didn’t know any better, he would say that the other man looked _scared_ , but of what, Sam hadn’t the first idea.

“Just a bad dream.” Higgs chewed on his scabbed lower lip, almost fully closed from where Harrison had struck him in the face. He tugged on his cuffed wrist idly, before hooking two fingers beneath his collar and sighing in exhaustion. The tips of his digits, where they peeked out the top of the device, were white from the tightness, and his nails looked dirty and bitten short. “I get them a lot.”

“You wanna talk about it? You don’t look too hot.”

“No.” Higgs snapped at him, before his expression softened a fraction. He dropped his gaze from Sam’s, and continued to pluck at the collar, the restless movement time-worn and futile. “Not easily, anyway. It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“Well, I’m here if you do. I ain’t your enemy Higgs.” Sam rose from the bed slowly, and tidied up the blankets and pillows, smoothing them down before placing his backpack on top. He would let Higgs stew on his decision, while he took a shower and found some breakfast for them both. 

Grabbing a spare change of clothes and his wash kit, Sam spared a glance at Higgs, who was laying on his side again, facing the wall mutely. He left the other man alone, and wandered down the hall to the bathroom. Once inside, Sam shut the door behind him, and stripped entirely out of his clothes which had started to feel like a second skin. Dumping them in the sink, Sam approached the shower, which appeared to be relatively simple: one dial for the pressure, and another for the temperature. 

Reaching out, Sam turned the water on full power, and waited a handful of seconds until the brownish water ran clear. Wriggling his fingers under the spray, Sam confirmed that it was, indeed, warm. Not as hot as Central Knot’s water, but high enough in temperature that he would be able to scrub the dirt of the road away, and forget the world for a few minutes. As he stood under the shower head, Sam let his thoughts drift away to his small, grey apartment back home, and the freezing morning walk that had taken him up to the Distribution Centre. Already, that meeting with Die-Hardman seemed like a lifetime ago. This job had certainly been unlike any he had ever experienced before, and once it was over, Sam was sure he would never encounter anything like it again.

Cutting off the water, Sam reluctantly stepped out into the much cooler bathroom, and snagged one of the old towels hanging up from a nearby hook. Rubbing it over his body and hair quickly, Sam looked at his reflection in the mirror, and ran his fingers through the lengthening beard on his jaw. It could definitely do with a trim, and there was no time like the present.

When he eventually emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a soft, grey button up, and his cleanest pair of blue jeans, Higgs was still staring at the wall, his arms wrapped around his midsection. His eyes looked tired, glazed over, like the full night’s sleep hadn’t made a difference at all. He was the complete opposite to Sam, who was feeling much more refreshed.

“You want to get cleaned up? They’ve got warm water.” Sam stood by Higgs’ feet, and watched the other man’s gaze drift, lethargically, in his direction. Slowly, he nodded, and Sam crossed the room to grab the key, and get his cuffs unlocked. “Here. Keep ‘em off for now. Left my wash bag in there, so feel free to use whatever.”

Higgs slunk off without so much as a _thank-you_ , but Sam didn’t pull him up on it. Instead, he laid out a change of clothes for Higgs on the bed, knowing that they would fit poorly given his gangly height, but it was better than putting the tar and gore slicked shirt back on. After, Sam set his mind to making them breakfast, bringing his rucksack, his gun, and the remote downstairs to the kitchen. He was just stirring two mugs of coffee when there was a knock at the door, causing him to jump. 

Suspicious, Sam brought his gun to the door, and through the translucent window panes, he could make out the silhouette of a single person. He couldn’t see if they were armed, or not, but unwilling to take a chance, Sam opened the door a crack, keeping his foot in the way if they tried to barge their way in. There on the other side, stood a middle aged woman, with mousy brown hair and a bright purple raincoat. In her hands, she held a basket that was covered in a red cloth, and had a wide, pleasant smile on her face.

Quickly, Sam lowered the gun, and pulled open the door properly. “Uh, hi?” He tilted his head down at the woman, trying to work out what she wanted. She didn’t appear threatening at all, but looks could most definitely be deceiving. “Can I help you?”

“Good morning.” The woman smiled wider, before pointing over her shoulder at their truck. It was still there, thank God. Sam wasn’t sure what he would have done had it been stolen in the night, or how he would have explained that to Die-Hardman. “Saw your truck pass through last night. You’re a Porter, ain’tcha?”

“Yeah?” If she was about to ask Sam to do a delivery for her, she was about to be horribly disappointed. He had his hands full enough with Higgs as it was.

“Here. I make these for all the Porters that come through town.” The woman folded back the cloth on the basket, and revealed a thick, fresh loaf of bread. She patted it fondly, before holding up the basket towards Sam. “You Porters keep the country running like clockwork. I’m just here to give back.”

“You sure? Don’t want anything in return?” Sam hesitated, before lifting the still-warm loaf into his hands. It smelled amazing, and Sam knew exactly what he was going to do with it. 

“Not at all, silly. You just _‘Keep on, Keeping on!’_. Okay?” The lady pumped her arm enthusiastically, and Sam smiled down at her, holding the loaf close and nodding.

“Yeah, I will. Thanks.” The woman gave him one final, polite nod, before turning and walking back the way she had come up the street. She was heading to the house next door, where Sam assumed another Porter was staying. Closing the door again, Sam brought the bread with him back to the kitchen, where he laid it on the chopping board. He would warm up some chilli, and cut them some thick slices of this. That would set them up for the day, and warm them from head to toe.

Higgs came skulking down just as he was serving up, and if he was surprised at the presence of the bread, he didn’t say anything. His hair was damp, and swept back from his forehead, and Sam’s clothes were tight on his skin, without being overly constricting. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do, for now. Later, they were going to have to dig around in the truck to see if Die-Hardman packed Higgs clothes that would actually fit him.

Higgs slid into one of the seats at the table, as Sam pushed a bowl of steaming chilli in his direction, and a plate with several thick slices of bread. A hot cup of coffee completed the meal, which would hopefully wake Higgs up a little more. Sam placed the same down for himself, and settled into the chair opposite Higgs, stirring the hot surface with his spoon and digging out a mouthful to blow on and cool down. Higgs tucked in without a word, chewing mechanically, and picking the dough out of his bread to roll into small, bite sized spheres. 

Halfway through their breakfast, Higgs paused in eating, and sat back in his chair. Sam stopped as well, having a sip of his coffee, as Higgs fiddled with the sleeves of his shirt. Finally, Higgs met his gaze, and began to speak.

“My Daddy was one of those prepper sorts, the kind that believed the end of the world was coming. He told me that people used to laugh at him for building a bunker underground in the middle of the woods, said they called him mad, cooky, ‘Old Man Monaghan and his crazy conspiracy theories’. He also said those same folks begged him for help, when the world collapsed.” 

“If you’re 44, you were born just after the outbreak, huh?” 

“Yeah. Daddy told me Mama got shafted with a whole load of chiralium when she got bit during her third trimester.” Higgs poked at his chilli idly with his spoon, seeming to have lost his appetite, for now. “When she started turnin’, doctors whipped me outta her so I wouldn’t die too. Her brother, that’s who I call Daddy, took me in.”

“I’m getting the sense he wasn’t a great guy.” Sam wasn’t the best at consoling people, especially about personal stuff like this. However, he was determined to listen to as much as Higgs wanted to say.

“No, no he wasn’t.” Higgs smiled then, but it wasn’t a happy smile. His gaze drifted down to the grain of wood on the table, and the grooves that had been worn in it over the years. “I lived in that bunker for 15 years, never set a foot out of it. Just 300 square feet of grey walls, recycled air, tinned food, n’ daily beatings to keep quiet, and t’not ask questions.”

“Shit, Higgs.” Sam never expected Higgs’ confession to be something so dark. Sam had visited several of those prepper bunkers in the past. He had even slept in one of them, when he was desperate to escape the Timefall. It was depressing, to say the least, to imagine a child trapped down in one of them for so long. He had met folks that had grown up in the early days of the outbreak under similar conditions, but even although it was dangerous, there was no reason to keep a kid in one permanently 24/7.

“Never thought what I had was bad. Just normal shit everyone had to go through. Wasn’t until I was older that I realised none of that shit was normal. So...I get nightmares about being stuck down in that bunker, that I never got out, that I’ll wake up and none of this was real.”

“Well, if it’s any reassurance, you aren’t there. You’re here, breathing in the fresh air, even if it’s with someone you don’t like.”

“You ain’t so bad, but thanks, Sammy.”

“S’alright. Thanks for telling me.” Sam continued eating, sensing the topic had naturally drawn to a close. Higgs joined him, and his mood seemed lighter, as he ate with a little more enthusiasm, dipping the bread as opposed to ripping it into little pieces. Higgs finished before him, and sat back, enjoying his coffee, as Sam took his time. “I was thinkin we could go to the market before we leave. I gotta visit the radio tower, anyway, tell Die-Hardman we got here. You behave yourself, there might be somethin’ in it for you.”

“Promise to behave.” Higgs shot him a wink, and that’s when Sam knew Higgs was back to his usual, provocative self. It was reassuring, to know that nothing had changed for the worse between them. Sam had gained a newfound respect for Higgs, and his strength to go through something like that and come out the other side. In return, Higgs appeared to have a little more trust in Sam, which would work out better for their road trip in the long run.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Pinky promise?” Higgs held up a single pinky finger, and Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Finish your breakfast.”


	6. Heavy on my Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WOOSH another update! 🍕 Thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter ;v;/ I really appreciated it!
> 
> Our boys spend more time at the outpost, and enjoy a little domestic down time together before they get back on the road. Sam is struggling with some newfound feelings, and Higgs continues to press all of our dear Porter's buttons. Enjoy! >:)c
> 
> *IMPORTANT*
> 
> Traditional TLS-Verse warnings apply to this chapter, including: Canon-typical violence and gore, Power Imbalance, Forced Captivity, and Explicit Language! For a full list of warnings, check the top notes of Chapter 1!
> 
> Things are kinda crazy right now in the world, so I wanted to bring some more comfort fic to you guys ;v; thank you once again to everyone who has taken the time to leave a comment and talk about Sam/Higgs! These two are my lifeblood at the moment <3

*

Don't follow roads paved in gold

They will only let you down

What's the fun when you can't share what you've found

_Years to build, in a second it's brought down_

*

Once breakfast had been cleared away, they first ventured down to the radio tower, so that Sam could relay their progress to Die-Hardman. Before they left, Sam had cuffed Higgs’ hands together in front of his body, not quite willing to trust the other man in public without the restraints. Higgs had seemed unruffled by the gesture, merely holding out his wrists once his coat was on, a wry smile on his face.

The morning air was crisp and dry, and thankfully absent of snowfall. As they walked along the side of the road, Sam noted how the worst of the drifts had already been cleared, making the path easier to traverse. Slushed snow heaped on the frozen grass, and Higgs found amusement in kicking through the piles, sending clumps of it skittering into the road. Sam didn’t chastise him, though. Instead, he kept his eye out for the tall tower he had seen last night, and the market for bartering and trading goods. He had a number of credits saved up from his years of being a Porter, a bundle of which he had folded up in his backpack. It wasn’t like they were in dire need of supplies, but occasionally, Sam found the odd object or article of clothing that caught his fancy.

They reached the tower a little after 9:00am, and before he entered the Bridges facility, Sam gave Higgs a pointed look. He wanted to call Die-Hardman alone, without Higgs eavesdropping.

“Can I trust you to behave for 10 minutes?”

“Probably not.” Higgs flashed a grin at him, and Sam frowned, not rising to the bait. Just outside of the tower was a bench, and Sam gestured to it.

“Park yourself. Don’t be a dick, I won’t be long.”

Higgs sighed theatrically, and sank onto the bench, with one leg crossed over the other. He gave Sam one of his sweet, innocent smiles that Sam had learned meant nothing but trouble, and shooed him away. 

“Go on then, I’ll wait here.” 

Sam turned away, without another word, and entered the tower. He showed the security inside his necklace, and followed a technician to a side office where he would be able to call in private. Once settled, and tuned into Die-Hardman’s broadcast signal on his radio, Sam held down the talk button, and sat back in the creaky, metal seat.

“Die-Hardman? This is Sam. Do you read?.”

There was no reply for the first 10 seconds, so Sam tried again.

“This is Sam. Do you read?.”

“Sam, this is Die-Hardman. I read you. Have you reached the first checkpoint yet?” 

Sam sighed in relief, and ran a hand through his damp hair. He was working on limited time here, and didn’t want to take his eyes off of Higgs longer than necessary. “Yeah, we’ve reached Westmore. Truck’s still intact.”

“Good, and your cargo?”

“He’s...yeah, he’s fine. Got a mouth on him, pain in the ass, but no trouble.” Sam wasn’t about to mention Higgs’ escape attempt at the motel. If there was truly an incident worth worrying about, he would mention it, but so far Higgs had been pretty tame. When his temper did flare its head, the threat of the collar made sure it burned out pretty quickly.

“Are you keeping the collar on him?”

“Yeah, of course. M’not stupid.”

“I know. No matter what, Sam, that collar must stay on him. Do not let him convince you otherwise.”

Sam rolled his eyes, and mouthed out a few choice words, before pressing back down on the talk button. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna take it off of him. I’ll call you at the next outpost.”

“Alright Sam. Keep up the good work. Over and out.”

“Over and out.” Sam switched off his radio, and stood up from the desk. Shoving his radio back in his backpack, Sam pushed in the seat with a loud scrape of metal, and left the radio tower on hurried feet. He found Higgs outside, exactly where he had left him, and the other man gave him a raise of his chin in greeting. 

“You didn’t take long.”

“Didn’t have much to say. Told him we were here, and he reminded me to keep you on a short leash.”

“And? Are you?” Higgs’ eyes narrowed, catlike, and Sam gestured for him to follow. He would talk as they walked.

“About as tight as I want to. Ain’t about to lock you in the truck with a bucket overnight while I sleep indoors.”

“I’m grateful for that.” Higgs didn’t sound his usual, sarcastic self when he admitted that. His tone was surprisingly genuine, and when Sam glanced at him, Higgs was watching him back. “You could have left me in the prisoner yard, too, but you didn’t. Thank you for deciding otherwise.”

“You’re not an animal, Higgs. Whatever those assholes at Bridges treated you like, that’s not how I do things.” 

“Despite everything?” Sam knew what Higgs was referring to. His background, his crimes against humanity. The conversation threw up all sorts of implications for Sam’s loyalties, but Sam knew where he stood from an ethical perspective. Bridges might hire him, but they didn’t own his soul and conscience, too.

“Yeah. Don’t care what that says about me, I don’t agree with treating human beings like things.”

Higgs was quiet after that, falling into a brooding silence that ended the conversation abruptly. If Sam had to guess, he was probably thinking about his time in Bridges’ custody, or his childhood, or both. What Higgs had confessed to him over the breakfast table this morning was hard to swallow, and while it didn’t excuse the violent and misanthropic actions in his later life, it did set the stage for a disturbed and otherwise ill-disposed individual.

They found the market in the town square after a little more walking. It was a dozen large stalls, selling supplies ranging from guns and ammunition, to odd items able to be disassembled for scrap. People milled about between the tables, talking to one another and bartering over goods. Sam spotted the woman who had stopped by with the bread, the fresh smell of her stall having created a queue for baked goods that stretched down the road. Sam waved to her, and she waved back, causing Higgs to give him a curious glance.

“You know her?”

“She brought over the bread this morning. Said she gives it away to Porters whenever they come through town.”

“Huh. That was awful sweet of her.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes people can be nice. You should try it.” Sam teased, not unkindly, and Higgs shot him a disbelieving look, hunching his shoulders.

“I can be nice.”

“Sure. Believe it when I see it.”

They perused the many stalls, and Higgs stuck close to Sam’s shoulder, occasionally pointing out something from the old world that interested him. Sam listened to him chat idly, as he pored over the contents for sale. He picked up a pair of sweatpants for himself, that didn’t look half bad, and a black turtleneck jumper that he could see Higgs was eyeing up. Higgs seemed surprised by the gesture, and he eyed Sam with suspicion, until the garment was placed in his hands. 

“Figured you needed some warmer clothes.” Sam shrugged, walking on without looking back at him, and leaving Higgs in stunned silence.

They continued to peruse the market, exchanging words and comments, until Sam noticed that Higgs was no longer at his shoulder. Sam turned quickly, to try and spot his errant charge, when he saw Higgs standing still, a few metres back. Sam was about to call out for him to follow, when the object of Higgs’ attention caught his eye: a couple, walking on the opposite site of the road. The man was dressed warmly, a thick, wool coat wrapped around his shoulders and keeping out the chill. Alongside him, holding his hand, a lady wearing a thick jumper was talking to him. Her free hand was placed on her midsection, which was swollen, pregnant, and oddly, it was that very curve of her stomach which had caught Higgs’ eye. 

Higgs stared at them a little longer, until they turned up a nearby street and disappeared from view. As he glanced back at Sam, Higgs’ expression morphed from interested, into cool detachment, when he realised Sam was waiting for him. This particular fixation confused Sam, and he made a mental note to ask Higgs about it later, as the taller man strode to rejoin his side.

“All done?” Higgs straightened himself up, and gestured back to the market. They had reached the end of the road, and Sam hadn’t felt the need to grab much. Die-Hardman hadn’t been hyperbolic when he told Sam they would have what they needed, and so the trip out had been shorter than Sam was previously used to. There was no need to buy ammunition, guns, first aid or food. They already had enough medicine, and supplies like sleeping bags and waterproof coats had already been provided. All in all, Sam had simply wanted to look, for the sheer sake of looking. 

“Yeah. Did you see anything else you wanted?”

“No. I’m fine.” Higgs squeezed the jumper Sam had bought him, a welcome reward for his good behaviour. 

Together, they made their way back to the house. Sadly, they would have to gather their things and leave by nightfall, but Sam estimated that the next outpost wouldn’t be too far away. They could suffer through a few more nights of rough sleeping, and avoiding timefall and the dead. Between the two of them, and Higgs’ extrasensory abilities, they should be able to navigate the roads and towns safely, in their long journey west.

When Sam closed the front door behind them, Higgs disappeared upstairs to grab his books, and to store away his jumper. Sam didn’t question it, and instead, set about plotting their route on the map Die-Hardman had given them. He carried his backpack to the living room, and sat down on one of the old, worn couches, unfolding and spreading out the large map on the coffee table. 

As he ran his fingers over the names of places, and committed the numbers of routes and exits to memory, Sam saw Higgs descend the stairs again with his chosen literature for the afternoon. It was the book on wildlife, again, and he threw himself down on the unoccupied sofa, toed off his boots with two thumps, and stretched out on his back. He was so tall, that while his shoulders occupied one arm rest, his ankles hung over the opposite side. Sam glanced up at him, and saw his hands were still cuffed, so he reached into his pocket, and tossed the key to Higgs.

“Here. ‘Can take your coat off now, too.”

“I like it, it’s warm.” Higgs unlocked both of his wrists, and laid the cuffs on the floor by his boots. He rubbed his sore wrists, and scratched a hand over his scalp, before throwing the key carefully back into Sam’s waiting palms. “Where’s our next destination then, Sammy?”

“Jackson, Kentucky.”

“How far?”

“In the old world, it would only take us around 6, maybe 7 hours.” Sam sat back, staring down at the areas Bridges had circled and coloured in. In terms of the virus, Kentucky looked like it had been hit, _hard_ , but if they were careful, they could circumvent the worst of the condemned zones.

“But this ain’t the old world, so we talkin 6 or 7 days?” Higgs estimated, and Sam gave him a grim nod.

“Even if I wanted to plough right down the main highways, we’d hit roadblock after roadblock. That’s not to mention places that got bombed by the military that are probably crawling with the dead, and any raiders we find out there that wanna cause trouble.”

Higgs set down his book, and rolled off of the couch. Walking on his knees, he approached the map, and leaned his elbows between North Dakota and Montana. Lowering a pointed finger, Higgs tapped over an area of West Virginia, _Huntington,_ which hadn’t been annotated by Bridges’ cartographers.

“It’s possible we’ll have to avoid here.”

“Oh yeah?” Sam squinted at the name, trying to remember if he had heard anything about the area from any of his fellow Porters. “How come?”

“Well, I used to have a pretty large base of operations there.” Higgs supplied helpfully, before he folded his arms, and rested his chin on them.

“And you’re telling me this, why?”

“Because I like you, Sammy. Because I _can_ be ‘nice’ _._ ” Higgs smirked at the word, and Sam felt his stomach clench. Higgs was definitely messing with him, so why did that make Sam feel a stab of warmth in his gut? Perhaps he was still tired from yesterday.

Sam took out a pen, and tentatively circled around Huntington. In the margin, he wrote down what Higgs had said, and began to plot new routes to avoid it. Huntington, and the area surrounding it, fell directly in the path of several routes that would have taken them to Jackson. It was good that Higgs had mentioned it this early on, instead of letting them stumble right into a terrorist insurgent group, but Sam had to wonder why Higgs was suddenly less than keen on returning to his fellow brethren. 

“Why you tryin’a avoid them? Thought you might wanna go home to your people.”

“There was a key phrase, there, Sammy. ‘Used to’.” Higgs curled his fingers in the air like quotation marks, before he backed off and took a seat on the sofa behind him. “Around 3 years ago, the Jackson group split off from our main faction, the _Homo Demens_. They started to make their own rules, and act without the permission of my Generals or I. Their head honcho, Rafe, decided he was too good to play second fiddle to me, and when he disbanded, he executed any that were still loyal to me in the vicinity.”

“Sounds like an asshole.” Sam chose his words carefully. So far, Higgs had been pretty tight lipped about the intricacies of his time as a leader, and he wanted to know as much as possible about what they could be potentially driving into in Huntington.

“Well, he was kind of a dick from the start, if I’m honest.”

“So we avoid Huntington. What’s the chances we might still run into him?”

“After 3 years? I would say there’s still a chance he’s in the area. As for how well they fared without my lead, I would say they’re probably in pretty bad shape.”

“Why didn’t you just kill ‘em? For turning against you?”

Higgs shrugged a shoulder, before running a hand through his hair. “I could’a done, but then I would have been down more men and resources than it was worth. I’d already lost around 40 to their little rebellion, and they wouldn’t have come back even if I had killed him. Better to cut your losses, sometimes.”

It was a strikingly diplomatic answer, one that Sam had never expected to hear from someone like Higgs. However, Higgs would not have risen to power, and remained leader for so long, if he did not have a discerning attitude towards wielding that strength. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Higgs left him in peace after that, returning to his wildlife book, with one leg bent at the knee to balance the spine against. He was being exceptionally well-behaved, and Sam was beginning to get a little suspicious. Perhaps Higgs was trying to get his guard down, before he made a sly escape? Or maybe he simply had grown bored of teasing Sam, and wanted to enjoy a little downtime, before they got back on the road? Sam wasn’t sure what to believe right now, but all he knew was that he had to be careful not to be too trusting.

As the afternoon wore on into evening, Sam eventually folded the map away, and stood up to start making their dinner. He wasn’t sure what they were going to eat, but he wanted to dig around in the back of the truck anyway, and take a full inventory of what they had been packed by Bridges. With a final glance back at Higgs, Sam left the house, and went to inspect the cargo loaded into their vehicle. There were definitely clothes in two of the yellow shipping cases, one for each of them, and Sam pulled out both, placing them on the sidewalk next to him. Next, he dug around in their food reserves, pulling out two cans of mixed vegetables, and another two of beef stew. One final tin was stowed away in Sam’s pocket, for later. He locked the truck securely, before hauling their supplies back up the stairs and into the house.

Closing the front door behind him, Sam carried the goods through to the kitchen, and placed the yellow clothing cases on the island counter. Higgs looked up, briefly, but continued to focus on his book, giving Sam the space to clatter around in the cupboards, looking for the utensils they would need. Halfway through cooking, Sam felt a presence behind him, and he turned to look at Higgs, who was perched on the edge of the island, his book still in hand. Sam hadn’t even heard the other man move, so Higgs’ sudden presence made him tense. He quickly calmed, though, and resumed stirring the vegetables, the stew bubbling away in another pan.

“I’ve been reading about whales.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, look.” Higgs turned his book around, showing Sam a picture of a large, blue, marine creature. It was enormous, and the scale of it was unlike any living thing Sam had seen before. The picture was captioned ‘Blue Whale’, and Sam stared at it a moment longer, before turning back to his cooking.

“I think I’ve heard of those before. What did they eat?”

“Some whales ate other sea-creatures, but most of them ate tiny creatures called ‘krill’, and ‘plankton’.”

“Would they eat people?” Sam shivered at the thought of such a creature swallowing him whole. He had never been out into the ocean properly before, but he had to admit, the idea gave him the creeps. Sam would rather stay on dry land, where he could run or drive away from his foes more easily.

“It doesn’t say, so I guess not often enough to be notable. Apparently they live in pods, and they’re deeply intelligent, social creatures. They can communicate with each other from miles away under the water, too.”

“You think there’s any left out there?” Sam mused, finding two plates in the cupboard to start dishing up. Hopefully, Higgs would enjoy it. If not, there wasn’t another option on the menu tonight.

“Maybe? The virus seems to have stuck to attacking what lives on land, so it’s a possibility. That’s if they haven’t all beached themselves.”

 _“ Beached?_ _”_ Sam poured out the stew carefully, and then the vegetables, bringing the plates to the table. It smelled delicious, and Sam couldn’t wait to dig in, suddenly feeling hungrier than he had realised.

Higgs closed his book, and sat across from Sam at the table. He looked over the food, nodded in approval, then continued his explanation as he ate. “Apparently, for various reasons, whales would be found washed up, or ‘beached’ on the shore.”

“What made them do that? Surely if they’re so smart, they’d stay away from the land?” Sam frowned, and poked at a carrot with his fork, before bringing it to his mouth.

“Climate change, old age, maybe just hunting too close to shore.” Higgs shrugged, having a mouthful of stew. “They’d also get trapped in shallow waters, if the tides suddenly changed and left them stranded.”

“So they’d get stuck, and die on land?”

“Yeah, slowly drying out, while the weight of their bodies crushed their internal organs.” 

It sounded like a horrific way to die, almost like drowning, but in reverse. Sam couldn’t imagine the pain and fear those giant animals must have felt, knowing that their bodies were slowly killing them from the inside. It reminded him of the dead, the way the infection would slowly take over every fibre of their being. He had seen people turn up close, in his years as a Porter. He had seen the terror in their eyes, as their blood turned toxic, and their organs began to fail, one by one, choked by spores and the fungus multiplying within their cells.

“Kinda sounds like the virus, doesn’t it?”

“Hm?” Higgs hummed, as he chewed over the bite in his mouth. He considered Sam’s words, before nodding. “Yeah. I guess they’re beached too, in a way. They’re not alive, or dead, they’re stuck in that horrible part in the middle. Maybe that’s what we should start calling them: _beached things._ ”

“Beached things. Or BTs?” Sam smiled at the nickname, and Higgs gave him a grin in return. It rolled off the tongue a lot easier than calling them ‘the dead’, or ‘the infected’, and the abbreviation had a nice ring to it, even if it was for something so terrible. It seemed like the name was here to stay.

The rest of dinner was enjoyed over comfortable small talk, and when every last drop of stew had mopped up, with some slices of the fresh bread, they both retired to the lounge area.

“I don’t want to leave tonight. Can’t we stay one more night?” Higgs groused, from where he was stretched out on his couch with a full belly. Sam, who was feeling incredibly lethargic after their huge meal, let out a heavy sigh. 

“I don’t think we can.”

“Can’t you ask? You’re the one with the all-powerful pendants from Bridges.” Higgs rubbed a hand over his tummy, and turned his head to look at Sam.

“The necklace is to show we’re on business from the president, not that we can take more than we need.” Sam looked down at the piece of jewellery, and picked it up by the strange, metal tags. If he focused, he could still feel the surface vibrating against his skin. After three days, it had almost become a background sensation to Sam, something that had blended in against the rest of his day-to-day existence.

“Well, I _need_ another night of this.” 

“Higgs.” Sam sat up, slowly, and looked over at the other man. At first, he thought Higgs was being his usual, willful self. However, the longer Sam thought about it, the more he concluded that even if they set off now, they would be driving in darkness, and setting themselves up for a more dangerous journey unnecessarily. Better to leave at the crack of dawn, with the sun rising behind them, then trying to navigate narrow, winding side roads, in the pitch black of winter. “Alright, fine. We need to go talk to security then. Tell them our plans.”

“I don’t want to get up.” Higgs grumbled, but Sam was having none of it. He rose from the couch, picked up the handcuffs from where they had ended up on the coffee table, and rattled the chain expectantly.

“Well I’m not leaving you here. Come on, let’s get some fresh air.”

“Fine, fine.” Higgs snarked, but there was no real heat behind his words. He took his time to stand up, stretching his arms above his head, before holding out his wrists palm side up. “Chain me up, Sammy boy.”

“Hm.” Sam felt his cheeks warm a little at that comment, and he focused on grabbing one wrist, then the next, and clicking the cuffs into place. Higgs was getting better and better at pushing his buttons, and Sam knew he was already going against his original plans of keeping a social and emotional distance from his cargo. Sam was stuck between a rock and a hard place, as if he suddenly cut off what was growing between them, he risked Higgs regressing to his aloof, mistrustful self. They would return to square one, and Sam wasn’t sure if he could put up with 6 months of needling and comments from the back seats.

Although reluctant, the security at Westmore didn’t protest them spending an extra night in the house. Especially after Sam reasoned on the safety of setting off at dawn, as opposed to night, citing his decades of experience and knowledge of travelling in the wilderness. Higgs had watched him from a few feet away, silent, with a proud smile on his face and his arms crossed. Successful in their task, they returned to the house, where Sam expressed that he wanted to go to bed early.

“If we sleep early enough, it won’t be as hard to get up in the morning.” Sam rubbed his eyes. They would sleep now, and set an alarm for sunrise, to make the most of the daylight.

“But Sam, it’s barely 7 in the evening.” Higgs protested, and Sam shook his head.

“Easy for you to say, s’not you that’s driving. I gotta rest.”

“If you insist.” Higgs didn’t seem impressed with the thought of sleeping so early, but Sam wasn’t about to budge. Higgs could stay up as late as he wanted, but Sam didn’t want to run the truck into a ditch because he was too tired to spot a turn in the road.

“Come on,” Sam put his hand on the stair railing, and looked back at Higgs who was gathering his things. 

“Coming, coming.” Higgs followed him up the stairs, carrying with him the cargo case of clothes that Sam had found him in the truck. They got ready for bed in comfortable silence, taking it in turns to get changed in the bathroom, before finally settling down in their respective corners of the room. Sam remembered to cuff Higgs to the radiator this time, and as he got cosy in his sleeping bag, Higgs spoke up in the quiet of the room.

“You think the BTs are aware of what’s happening to them? Like the whales on the beach?”

“You mean, is there a person still inside?” Sam rolled onto his side, and stared down at Higgs. “Why’d you ask?”

“Just curious. I mean, they were once human, right? If they’re stuck, if they’re _beached_ , maybe there’s a tiny part of them that’s still conscious.” 

Sam hummed as he considered the question. He didn’t like to imagine that the BTs he killed had human awareness. He supposed the pain of the virus, coupled with the burgeoning physical deformities caused by the chiral transformation, would push any complex emotions to the back burner, leaving only instinct at the forefront. “Maybe. I guess if they could feel, they’d be grateful we were putting them out of their misery.” 

“Huh.” Higgs fell silent for a minute. He nestled his face into his pillow and breathed in deeply against the faded fabric. “You think they could ever be cured?”

“Nah. Maybe in the first stages, yeah, but after decades of necrosis, there’s no coming back from that.” Sam grimaced, as he thought about some of the more twisted and misshapen infected he had seen in the past. “Even if it were possible, Bridges ain’t gonna find a cure. Gave up believing in that shit a long time ago.”

“Pessimistic, ain’tcha?”

“Realistic.” Sam corrected, before rolling over and reaching for the switch for the bedside lamp. “Let’s get some sleep, alright?”

“Sweet dreams, Sammy.”

Higgs’ honey-sweet words made Sam’s stomach clench once again with warmth. Instead of examining the feeling more closely, however, Sam switched the light off, and opted to try and get some sleep. He wasn’t about to dissect whatever this was tonight. 

“Yeah, you too.”


	7. Live Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi it's me again 🍕 If you couldn't guess, I'm fuelled by positive affirmation, so Thank you again to everyone who commented on Ch6! ;v;/ I was going to post this on Monday, but I was feeling so motivated I just kept writing! <3
> 
> Back out in the wilderness again, our boys encounter a little taste of the dangers that lie ahead. We've got an action fuelled chapter ahead folks, but don't worry, there is always time for sweet sweet fluff and bonding time. Enjoy! >:)c
> 
> *IMPORTANT*
> 
> Traditional TLS-Verse warnings apply to this chapter, including: Canon-typical violence and gore, Power Imbalance, Forced Captivity, and Explicit Language! For a full list of warnings, check the top notes of Chapter 1!
> 
> I know I'm repeating myself, but I really am grateful for how enthusiastic everyone's response has been to this crazy AU. I didn't think I'd enjoy writing this fic so much, but it's been so great talking to you and reading your comments every day. Thank you, you guys are amazing! :')

*

I've been on a long road

With the devil right beside me

Rising with the morning sun

_ It's a hunger that drives me _

*

They left Westmore with the sunrise at their backs, joining the highway once more on the road to Kentucky. Higgs was still half asleep beside Sam, his winter coat draped over his lap, and a bag of books by his ankles. Sam drove with one hand on the wheel, sipping the coffee he had poured into his thermos minutes before they set off in the truck. The caffeine was helping to wake him up, as they ate up the miles between them and the next outpost.

After their little chat, Sam had slept deeply that night. However, in his slumber, he had had dreams that left him confused, and disoriented.

_ In his dream, he had been standing beside Higgs, on the roof of a Bridges Distribution Centre. Timefall had pelted down from the sky, and Sam’s hood was barely covering his face, as strong winds threatened to whip him over the edge. _

_ Higgs had stood in the rain, his arms outstretched and palm side up to the sky. He appeared unaffected by the rain, thrilled even, and Sam noted there was no longer a collar around his neck. He turned on the spot, and regarded Sam with a sharp, wicked grin, his hair plastered to his skin, and his soaked, black clothes clinging heavily to his frame. _

_ ‘You see, Sammy? I told you I wasn’t gonna go quietly. All this was just a prelude to something bigger.’ _

_ ‘What do you mean?’ Sam shouted over the sound of the storm.  _

_ ‘Take a look, Sammy.’ Higgs stalked the remaining few steps towards him, grabbed him by the upper arm, and hauled him towards the edge of the roof. Sam struggled, pitching forwards and backwards to keep his balance. They stopped, precariously close, and when he followed Higgs’ pointing finger with his gaze, he could see the streets below were flooded with tar. An endless, deep sea of black, as far as the eye could see, had swallowed up the landscape, and goosebumps rose on Sam’s skin as he saw it was pulling down the buildings, one by one. The sentience of the tar frightened him, and here and there among the waves, he could see creatures writhing and swimming through the depths, causing great ripples as they churned up the blackness.  _

_ ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ Higgs exclaimed to him, somehow able to be heard over the raging weather. Sam had never seen anything more horrific in all his life. It was destruction in its purest form, a void choking the life from the planet, and there they were, a Porter and a madman, watching the extinction of humanity.  _

_ A low groaning shook the foundations of the building beneath them, and Sam staggered and fell to his knees, as a monstrous creature surged up from the tides. Its inky black body was crusted in chiralium, shelves of fungi-like crystals coating its exposed spine and flippers as it heaved into the sky. A whale, almost as big as the one from Higgs’ book, shadowed oppressively over the remains of the buildings, filling the sky and blotting out the weakening sun. Its face split open trifold, and an ear piercing cry filled the air, forcing Sam to cover his ears with his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut, as the building beneath them began to crumble, and then...and then… _

Sam had awoken in his bed, with the alarm on his watch beeping on his wrist. Higgs was sound asleep in his corner of the room, stretched out on his back with one arm thrown above his head, and the other hand tucked under the hem of his shirt. Sam silenced his alarm, and lay there for a few more minutes in the early morning gloom. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the waves beating against the foundations of the building, and the wind and rain threatening to buffet him into the ocean. His ears still rang with the whale’s phantom song, and he could still see the glint of Higgs’ sharp teeth behind his eyelids. 

The horrific dream had been vivid, and as tangible as the truck’s cabin that was now around him. Sam knew it was just a nightmare, not real, but the imagery was burned into his memories, and shook him to his core. He had to remain focused, though. The road ahead was only going to get rougher, and he needed to think strategically if they were potentially heading into raider territory.

Around 2 hours into their journey, Higgs finally spoke, sitting up straight and stretching his arms as best as he could. “Must’a dozed off. You think we can stop a second?”

“Why, you gotta take a piss?”

“Yeah. That coffee’s gone straight through me.” Higgs shot him a teasing look, and shifted impatiently on the leather of his seat. Sam was getting close to needing a bathroom break himself, so he scanned the road ahead for nearby places to stop. They were passing through a valley, by an old farm, so they could afford to pull over for a minute. 

As Sam rolled the truck to a stop, he passed Higgs the key to his cuffs, and popped the child locks so that he could let himself out. Higgs slid out of the passenger side, and strolled over to a nearby hedgerow, giving Sam a glance over his shoulder.

“Not coming to watch, Sam?”

“No.” Sam folded his arms, and leaned back against the hood of the truck. By now, Higgs’ jabs and taunts rolled off of him easily, and he was quickly learning what was a joke, and what was Higgs taking a genuine stab at him.

“You were talkin’ in your sleep, you know.” Higgs’ voice floated out from behind the foliage, and Sam’s lips pressed into a thin line. Higgs hadn’t mentioned  _ that _ over their morning packing.

“Oh yeah? How’d you know. You were flat out.”

“Because you were moaning my name.  _ Ah, Higgs, don’t stop.” _ Higgs imitated him, badly, and if he wasn’t currently relieving himself, Sam would have shoved him in the dirt. He might still, if Higgs didn’t quit it. The pleasured tone in his voice brought that familiar warmth back to Sam’s stomach, and he shook himself fully, as Higgs emerged back from the bushes.

“You wish.” Was all Sam said, before trading places with Higgs to go handle his own needs.

“Yeah I do. Thought that was obvious.” Higgs snickered, and Sam rolled his eyes, not rising to the bait. There was no way in hell Sam would ever even consider getting intimate with someone so full of their own self-importance, so irrational and selfish. Higgs wasn’t dating material, he was the kind of person that would probably fuck someone and leave without a second thought. 

_ Why was he even considering this? _

Sam zipped himself back up, and stepped back towards the truck, ignoring Higgs’ smug expression in favour of climbing back into the warmth of the cabin. He didn’t have time for whatever game Higgs was playing, and if Higgs was genuinely propositioning him, that was too damn bad. Higgs was the last person on the planet that Sam would hook up with.

They passed through a small town, as the last of the gloom faded from the sky, and they decided to stop for breakfast in the remains of a small, abandoned church. The spire above them was old and crumbling, and the stained glass in the windows had faded into almost transparency. Here and there were pockets of tar, and chiralium crystals, but not enough to cause concern. Sam pushed open the heavy oak doors, and they sat together upon pews as they enjoyed cold beans, and the last of the bread from the baker woman at Westmore. 

As he dug into his tin with his spoon, Higgs put his feet up on the row in front of him, and regarded the crucifix on the wall with a thoughtful expression. Sam looked over at him, and caught his eye. 

“You a believer?” He asked, and Higgs snorted in disbelief, before his expression turned contemplative. 

“Nah, never have been. Guess I get why some folks are, though.”

“Surprised you ain’t got something ruder to say. This is usually the part where you say some nihilistic shit.”

“Think you know me that well, Sammy?”

“I dunno. Maybe?”

Higgs smirked briefly, and tore some bread between his teeth, chewing it up before turning back to the cross. “I guess everyone’s gotta have something to keep ‘em going, even if it’s a dead dude from 2000 years ago.”

“What kept you going?” Sam hadn’t meant to ask, but now that he had, he couldn’t exactly take back the words. He might as well keep going. “In prison, I mean.”

Higgs stiffened in his seat, and swallowed a thick mouthful of beans. The light, playful air about him had been snuffed out, and Sam was left wishing he hadn’t spoken at all. Higgs removed his feet from the pews in front, and shook his head. “Don’t wanna talk about that, Sam.”

“Oh, okay. You don’t have to.” Sam gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, even if Higgs wasn’t looking at him. They finished their breakfast without another word, and Sam was just brushing himself of bread crumbs, when he noticed Higgs had gone awfully still once more. “Look, I-”

“Shh.” Higgs set his empty tin to one side, and placed a hand on Sam’s arm. He stood up, slow enough that the pew beneath him didn’t creak, and gestured for Sam to do the same. Sam fought down the urge to flinch at the contact, but his skin was bristling for more reasons than the unwanted contact. “BTs, Sam.” Higgs turned his head towards the main doors to the church, and ushered Sam to crouch with him behind the rows of seating. Just as Sam had taken cover, the doors were shoved open by not one, not two, but three infected that stumbled into the enclosed space. 

Sam could see their feet, and hear the strangled noises emanating from them, as he and Higgs slowly crawled towards the back of the church. Two of the dead sounded worse than the third. Their calls were louder, and the clicking, squealing calls vibrated through the air, bouncing off of the high ceiling of the church and amplifying their volume. Higgs led them behind the altar, as another two entered the church, and Sam reached for his hip for the gun that was holstered there.

Higgs looked back at him, and shook his head, making a motion like stabbing something in front of him. Sam had a knife, but Higgs was unarmed. Peering over the top of the altar, Sam could now see there were seven in total wandering the church. Four of them were your average BT, fast, but able to be quickly brought down with a bullet to the brain or a blunt object. It was the other three Sam was more worried about. If they could get to the truck, they could drive off fast enough that the group wouldn’t be a problem, but the building was long, and narrow, and there weren’t that many places to hide. 

Higgs looked around, and spotted a large bible on the ornate surface, which he held up to Sam and motioned as though wanting to throw it. Sam nodded in approval, and Higgs raised himself up just enough to toss the book to the right side of the church. It hit the wall with a loud bang, and in unison, the BTs shrieked, and shambled towards where the noise had emanated from.

Quickly, the two of them dashed into cover behind the ends of the first and second row of pews. Higgs, who was ahead of Sam, raised a hand for him to wait. He could get to their empty tins, and use them as further distraction, but it would be risky if they both tried to move together.

“I’m gonna try get to those cans.” He whispered to Sam, who shot him a worried look. “Stay here.”

Sam held his breath, but nodded to Higgs, who shimmied on his hands and knees to reach the discarded remains of their breakfast. The BTs were still mostly congregated around the right side, but a few had started to trail towards the altar. As Sam watched, Higgs retrieved the first, then both of the cans, and sent one of them spiraling through the air towards the back of the church. It hit a tall candlestick, and toppled it, sending the large metal ornament toppling from its precarious base with a crash. The infected screeched with bloodlust, and Sam used the noise as cover to make his way towards the main doors. Higgs followed suit, further behind him, when an unexpected eighth BT ran through the doors, and almost slammed straight into Sam.

Sam jerked to the side, and the creature yelped in surprise, before grabbing for his face with its yellowing, gnarled fingers. Behind them, the herd had turned once again, and Higgs started to sprint as the BT grappled with Sam and pinned him to the wall of the church. He slammed the second empty tin as hard as he could into the side of its fungus-encrusted skull, and it stumbled to the side, sprawling in the entryway of the church. Grabbing Sam, Higgs pulled them out into the fresh air, before turning back to start closing the heavy doors behind them.

“Leave it! Let’s get to the truck!” Sam yelled, and Higgs took one final look at the BTs that were surging towards him, closing in fast, before hightailing it after him. They stumbled through the graveyard, hearts racing, before a guttural roar had them dashing for cover once more. A few metres from their truck, surrounded by another three BTs, was a massive hulk of a creature. Its bloated form roared at them, and a thick mass of tar and chiralium sailed through the air. With a bang, it hit a nearby gravestone, and sent spores scattering in all directions. 

“Fuck. Looks like a horde's wandering through.” Sam panted, and Higgs nodded breathlessly. They couldn’t afford to wait for any more to show up, they needed to think, fast.

Forced to flee further away from their vehicle, Sam led them around the back of the church, away from the bellowing beast. Higgs followed closely, sweating despite the chill in the air. Sam held his gun, now, unwilling to take any further risks if one came too close. Once it looked like they had a moment of reprieve, he quickly tugged off his coat. He tied it around his neck, over his mouth and nose, before setting down his backpack to find his gas mask. 

“What are you doing?” Higgs hissed at them, as Sam pulled out the device, and pushed it into Higgs’ hands.

“Here. I only got one. Other one’s in the back of the truck, with the rest of the medical supplies.” Sam’s voice was muffled, and Higgs placed a hand on top of the mask, pushing it back towards Sam.

“You wear it. I’ll be fine.”

“Put the damn mask on, Higgs.” Sam shoved it more forcefully against his chest, and Higgs backed off, glancing over his shoulder to see if any BTs had noticed their location. So far, they were safe, but they wouldn’t be for long. He could already hear the loud clicking of their assailants getting closer.

“Wear it, and get to the truck.” Higgs insisted, ignoring Sam’s stern expression. “Follow the road, bring it around back. I’ll get in.” Sam pulled down his makeshift face cover, and gave Higgs a disbelieving look. “Trust me. It’s the best chance we’ve got at both staying alive.”

“We do this, you stick to the plan. No running off.”

“I promise, Sam. Now go, get out of here.”

Sam took a deep breath, and steeled his nerves. He would have to be quick, and with almost a dozen BTs crawling the churchyard, he would need to be quiet. With a final glance back at Higgs, he slid the gas mask over his face, and pushed out from behind the gravestone they were using as cover. Higgs stayed put, and as Sam navigated the grounds, he put the worry of Higgs escaping to the back of his head. He had to trust that Higgs would keep his word, that he wouldn’t turn and run in the other direction now he had a chance at freedom. All Sam could afford to think about now was getting to the truck, and the varying cries from the dead that seemed to be coming in all directions. 

Peering out from around a large headstone, Sam could see one of the clicking BTs stumbling away from his position. If he could get close enough, he could jam his knife into the soft spot at the base of their skull, and take them down quietly. On light feet, Sam quickly closed the distance between them, and rammed his knife home beneath the plates of chiralium that split open the skin of their head. The creature gurgled, and the strength of the attack caused gold crystals to crumble, and break away from their fetid body, as they seized and shuddered their way to the ground.

Drawing out his knife, Sam flicked away the worst of the black tar clinging to the blade, before continuing his zig-zagging path to the truck. His skin crawled with the heavy presence of BTs in the area, but luckily, he had managed to avoid the worst of the deadly spores in the open air. When he reached the front of the church, Sam spotted the truck, the engine still idling, where it sat on the open road. He could run to it, but if he alerted that bloated BT, he didn’t want to risk one of those tar clusters detonating near the vehicle. 

Dropping onto his front, Sam crawled through the tall grass, only moving when he was sure it was safe. Condensation lightly filmed the inside of the mask’s eyepieces, and Sam squinted through the moisture as he pushed onwards. Higgs would have to hold on a little longer, wherever he was, if he had even bothered to stick to the plan. He couldn’t hear any commotion behind him, and as he inched forward on his belly, Sam sent a small prayer that things would stay that way. 

Finally, he reached the edge of the road. Sam looked over his shoulder for one last all-clear, before shoving himself to his feet and bolting for the truck. His footsteps sounded far too loud on the asphalt, but he was already committed to the sprint. A cry cut through the air, from chiralium-filled lungs, and Sam lunged for the driver’s door, hauling it open and tossing his pack into the footwell. He ripped the gas mask from his face, and put the truck into drive, before flooring it down the side road that led behind the church. 

As he drove, Sam scanned the yard frantically. He spotted the bloated BT, and several others around it, patrolling the graves that they had been hiding behind. He couldn’t see Higgs anywhere, which sent a spike of fear through him, especially when another thick cluster of tar and spores was hurled at something Sam couldn’t see. How could Sam have been so stupid? The plan was reckless, and now Higgs was trapped, possibly dead, all because he thought he could take on a horde of BTs alone. Sam didn’t stop driving, circling slowly around the church a second time and trying to see a flash of Higgs amongst the gravestones. 

Suddenly, he caught sight of the other man behind him, fleeing down the side of the building and ducking around the arms of a BT that threw itself in his path. Sam put the truck into reverse, and the tires squealed as he shortened the distance between them. The passenger door was yanked open, and Higgs leapt inside, almost landing on Sam’s lap as he slammed it behind him.

“Go!” Higgs yelled, and Sam didn’t need to be told twice. They tore away from the church, and Sam didn’t slow even a fraction, not until the spire was a white speck, disappearing over the brow of the hill.

When he was sure they were far enough away from the church, Sam brought the truck down to a stop. He gripped the wheel tightly, and his knuckles were white, as the adrenaline from the attack faded from his muscles. Beside him, Higgs was quiet, obviously still reeling from what had happened, and neither of them seemed in any hurry to keep moving. They needed time to regain their energy.

Higgs was the first to speak, rubbing at a patch of mud that was drying on his cheek, and glancing over at Sam. “You okay?” 

Sam turned his head, and gave Higgs a small nod. The truck rumbled beneath them in a comforting purr, and the cabin was far warmer than the outside air, but Sam still felt on edge, and cold from the shock. “Yeah, just taking a minute.”

“You want me to drive?”

“No, m’okay.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll just sit n’ be quiet.”

“Mhm.” Sam hummed, and stared out the driver’s side window, as Higgs busied himself with one of his books. It took a few minutes, but eventually, the rush wore off from Sam’s body, and the hairs on the back of his neck stopped standing on end. He rubbed a hand down his sweaty face, and glanced at Higgs, who was studiously keeping to himself. “Thought you were dead.” Instead of teasing him, Higgs gave Sam a small smile, and closed his book. His silence encouraged Sam to continue, and so he did, albeit in short, quiet sentences. “Back there, when I was driving around. I couldn’t see you. There was so fucking many of them, too. That giant thing? I ain’t never seen one of those before.”

“Bloaters, people call them.” Higgs helpfully supplied, and Sam committed the name to memory. They sure looked bloated, and the spores they sent flying could be lethal in an enclosed space. He was grateful that the creature hadn’t wandered into the church with the rest of the horde from the start. “I’ve seen ‘em before. More of ‘em out west, you can kill them with bombs, molotovs, that kinda stuff.”

“We got a bit of that.” Sam gestured behind him at their supplies, before his gaze drifted to the gas mask that was still sat in his lap. “You shoulda put this on. Why didn’t you take it?”

“You need it more.” Higgs was thumbing over the spine of the book now, fidgeting.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re a reckless asshole that puts themselves in danger for people.” Higgs replied, not unkindly. It wasn’t meant as a jab, and Sam sighed, knowing that Higgs was right. The more they worked as a team like this, the more complicated things between them became. It was a slippery slope, and Sam knew that his obligation to Higgs was quickly becoming less about keeping his cargo in one piece, and more about keeping the man himself alive. “You’re the hero type, Sam. It’s what you do.”

“What about you? Would you do the same?”

Higgs didn’t reply immediately. He turned away from Sam, and stared at the countryside ahead. His stormy blue eyes were narrowed, as though searching for something in the distance, and he pulled the book closer to his chest, chewing on his lower lip. “If it came down to it? Yeah, I would.” 

Sam felt the corners of his mouth tug up in a small smile, and he brought his hands up to rest them on the wheel. He didn’t press Higgs to elaborate, merely lifted the handbrake, and continued to roll the truck along the road. Above them, the sky was blissfully clear of cloud coverage, and the bright winter’s sun lit the way through the valley.

Mid day came and went, and Sam once again had the CD player on, albeit quietly, as his companion continued to read. Higgs was devouring the literature he had collected at an alarming rate, occasionally reading passages aloud about various animals. African wild dogs, buffalo from the American plains, and kiwi birds from New Zealand. Sam listened, as they rocked along the less-travelled roads, the countryside a snow-dusted blur either side of them. He felt much calmer than before, the conversation with Higgs having settled his resolve. 

They were no longer at odds, so it would seem. Instead, they had formed a tentative pact, become a team that Sam wasn’t used to having. Although he had worked with others in the past, Sam preferred to go about his business alone. It was safer, in some ways, not having to rely that someone else will be as cautious as himself. He didn’t have to worry about another person accidentally attracting the attention of the BTs, or leaving him to die to save their own skin. Likewise, he didn’t have to wade into trouble to save someone else. His supplies, his decisions, and his path to take were his, and his alone.

Things were different with Higgs. Sam knew that the other man had the wisdom and experience to keep himself alive in this less than forgiving world. Higgs was in the unique position of not only once being a Porter himself, but also having commanded his own army of survivors. Higgs wasn’t some soft-skinned desk jockey, or a helpless idiot that made stupid decisions without foresight. Sam knew that if they got into a rough patch, like before, he could rely on Higgs to use his wits to find them a solution. With belated surprise, Sam realised he hadn’t even bothered to cuff Higgs again since their first stop this morning. Perhaps their trust in each other had progressed beyond the need for the chains. He was still going to enforce the collar rule, though.

“Sam?” Higgs’ voice cut across Sam’s thoughts, and Sam blinked, realising he had been zoning out. “You in there?”

“Yeah, sorry. Was just thinkin’.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Nothin’ much.” Sam shrugged one shoulder. He reached into the footwell, and pulled out his water bottle from the side of his backpack. He took a sip, conscious that Higgs was still staring at him. “What?”

“I was reading to you about peng-oo-ins.”

Sam snorted, closing the cap on his bottle before tucking it in the cup holder. “Penguins.”

“What?”

_ “Penguins.” _ Sam repeated slowly, and Higgs huffed. Sam had heard of those before, how they lived in big flocks in the Antarctic, ate fish, and slid along ice on their bellies. The thought of it brought a smile to Sam’s face.

“That’s what I said. Anyway, you listenin’ now?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Higgs continued to read, and Sam paid attention this time. Higgs had a nice reading voice, and the way he softened hard consonants, and blended the occasional word into the next, made his inflections almost lyrical in places. As he described the way the strange, flightless birds took it in turns as mates to incubate their eggs, and feed themselves at sea, Sam imagined what that would be like. Days upon days, perhaps even weeks, of sitting in the freezing cold, caring for his offspring. Hoping, but not knowing, whether his partner would return. The trust involved in that process was frankly beyond what most humans were capable of these days.

By the time the sun set on their first day towards Jackson, Sam’s legs were cramping, and tired from sitting in the same position for hours on end. They found a quiet side road, with an even quieter gas station, and parked up behind the building where they would be hidden to passers-by. After prying open the locked, back door to the building, they carefully scoped out the store with a flashlight each, searching every dark corner for any sign of BTs. It was clear, thankfully, and they doubled back to the truck to retrieve an overnight bag each. They would sleep in the staff break room, which was small, and closet-like, but it was the only space that didn’t have windows.

Dinner was cold soup, in the equally cold room, but it was food, and nothing to complain about. Higgs wolfed his down with his usual enthusiasm, and Sam savoured the tangy, tomato taste, his legs stretched out in front of him. They would loot the gas station in the morning for anything that caught their eye, but for now, Sam shut the break room door, and came to lay beside Higgs in the cramped room. It was barely three metres wide, and with a small coffee station already taking up almost a third of that, they were laying with scarcely a few feet of space between them. If Sam rolled over in the night, he would be almost nose to nose with Higgs, and that wasn’t something he was particularly thrilled with.

As if reading his mind, Higgs propped himself up sideways on one elbow, his torch still illuminating the room. “Cosy, ain’t it?”

Sam, who was laying on his back, in his sleeping bag, turned his head a fraction, and frowned. “Yeah. Super.”

“S’no different to the truck, just now we’re horizontal. Don’t make it awkward, Sammy.”

“I’m not.” Sam turned his face away, grateful for the low light, as his cheeks felt warm. “Just ain’t used to sleeping so close to someone.”

“Got a feeling we’ll be doing a lot of this, in the months ahead.” 

“That supposed to make me feel better?”

“No, but it’s the truth. You signed up for this shitshow, Sammy. Y’got 6 months of my company, at least try to enjoy it a little, before we reach Portland.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Sam rubbed his cheek against the hood of his sleeping bag, and turned onto his side to face the other man. The great thing about the bag was that he was able to keep his hands to himself with ease. Likewise, Higgs would keep his hands off of him. Hopefully, anyway. “Hey, Higgs?”

“Hm?” Higgs was shuffling deeper into his bag, and he held his torch in his hands, ready to turn it off.

“Thanks again for today. You did good back there at the church.”

“You too, Sammy. Thank you for trusting me.”

The next morning, they awoke to the sound of hushed voices inside the gas station, and the sound of footsteps approaching the door.


	8. Hellfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> YEEHAW I am once again back with Ch8 🍕! This fic is rapidly becoming my entire life right now, and I am so happy to bring you more of the boys and their journey!
> 
> In the TLS universe, there’s no rest for the wicked, as our boys are about to find out! We’ve got another action filled chapter on our hands folks, but as always, there’s plenty of room for fluff and hurt/comfort! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I was so inspired by all your wonderful comments that I wanted to get it done before the end of the weekend! Thank you everybody so much again for being so supportive, and please let me know what you think of this latest instalment! 
> 
> Also, comment below to tell me what you love most about Sam/Higgs! I’d love to hear it, even if it’s not related to this AU! ♡ 
> 
> *IMPORTANT*
> 
> Traditional TLS-Verse warnings apply to this chapter, including: Canon-typical violence and gore, Power Imbalance, Forced Captivity, and Explicit Language! For a full list of warnings, check the top notes of Chapter 1!

*

Down in the forest

With the devil in me

I'll remember the looks on their faces

_ Through the sycamore trees _

*

The first thing Sam saw, when he opened his eyes, was Higgs’ face looming close to his own. He could also feel the other man’s hand covering his mouth, and see the silencing finger Higgs had raised to lips. Sam nodded in understanding, and Higgs removed his hand, shuffling back a fraction to give Sam room to breathe. The footsteps came closer, and closer to the door, and Sam cautiously sat up, neither of them daring to speak a word.

As they both strained to listen, a man spoke beyond the door. “Hey Mac! I’ve found some smokes. You want me to grab them?” 

Higgs turned his head towards the sound, his entire body tense. The collar around his neck blinked yellow, and with a horrible, sinking feeling in his gut, Sam realised the trouble Higgs was in. In any violent situation, Higgs ran the risk of shocking himself, if his pulse rose too high. He was vulnerable, so long as the contraption was around his neck, but Sam couldn’t risk removing it without Die-Hardman’s orders. They had gotten extremely lucky at the church with the horde, but he doubted they would be that fortunate again.

“Yeah! You found the keys to that truck yet?” Someone, presumably Mac, yelled back.

“No, but I bet those rats are around here somewhere.” Sam heard the tapping of something metal, perhaps a crowbar, on the ground. Sam reached for his gun, and Higgs carefully crawled behind him, letting Sam take the lead, as the footsteps faded away. 

Sam opened the door an inch, and peeked out into the gas station. By now, the sun was up, and streaming in through the windows at the front of the store. He could see outside that there was a car parked up, and it was an old, rusted thing, with spray paint decal on the side. He couldn’t see any other vehicles, so he assumed there would be 4, perhaps 5 individuals in total, and at least one of them was in the main area of the store with them.

“Why don’t you just smash the windows?” The first man yelled, from behind a nearby aisle. Sam crept from the break room, to crouch behind the front counter. 

“Are you kidding? Our car’s a fucking wreck Josh. It probably won’t even last another Timefall storm. We take theirs, we’re safe and supplied for months!” Mac sounded closer, now. They would have to be quick.

Higgs followed Sam out, and knelt beside him. He had made sure to close the door behind him, too, to ensure that everything looked natural. Higgs was still unarmed, and he gave Sam an imploring look, to which Sam hesitated. He handed Higgs his knife, which was presumably far more than Higgs was expecting, as he gave the offered weapon a double take.

“For emergencies.” Sam barely breathed the words, and Higgs held the knife tightly. Sam was going out on a limb here, giving Higgs a weapon. He hoped that Higgs would keep his word, and not betray him.

They crawled around the desk, and Sam spotted the man, ‘Josh’, digging around some crates that were stacked in a corner. Slowly, Sam rose to his feet, and with light steps, he approached his foe’s unprotected back. As soon as Josh was within reach, Sam grabbed him around his nose and mouth. He dragged him down, and suffocated him into unconsciousness, his kicking and thrashing becoming weaker and weaker until he collapsed in Sam’s arms.

Sam dragged his body back behind the counter, along with his crowbar, which he had grabbed in haste before it could clatter to the ground. He dumped him next to Higgs, who was still clutching the knife, and watching him with wide eyes. “Watch him.” Sam whispered, and Higgs gave him a sharp nod. 

Emerging once more, Sam cast his eyes around the room, and was forced to duck behind an aisle when a second man walked into the store. He was tall, and broad, and was carrying a shotgun. A cigarette was dangling from his lips. “What the fuck is taking you so long?” He called. It was Mac, and Sam knew they didn’t have long until he got suspicious at the absence of his friend. “Josh!” 

Mac began to search the store, and Sam reached up beside him to grab an old soda can. He tossed it down the aisle, and it hit another shelf with a loud, metallic bang, catching Mac’s attention. 

“The fuck was that?” Mac growled, and Sam heard his loud, booted footsteps, as he strode in the direction of the noise. Sam moved more quietly, staying out of sight, but as he rounded the end of an aisle, he hadn’t spotted the third man that was hot on Mac’s heels in the doorway. The newcomer let out a surprised  _ ‘Hey!’ _ , and Sam whirled around to aim at him with his gun. Sam fired off a round, but the bullet shattered the glass near his head instead, as his foe ducked out of sight. 

Familiar, heavy footsteps ran up behind Sam. Sam didn’t have time to turn around, before Mac’s strong arms wrapped under his own, and heaved him into the air. Sam’s legs kicked out, and he struggled in the taller man’s grip, as Higgs leapt out from behind the counter to join in the fray. Sam was roughly tossed aside, and his head struck the corner of a shelf, causing his vision to swim and his ears to buzz with white noise. He could faintly make out Higgs grappling with Mac, but he couldn’t hear the commotion through his dizziness. A bright orange flash of gunfire lit up the enclosed space, and beside Higgs’ shoulder, glass jars of expired food shattered, sending glinting shards in all directions. 

Sam saw a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye, and he flinched to the side as the third man swung the butt of his rifle towards his face. The weapon whistled by his cheekbone, and slammed into the metal of the aisle, missing him by inches. Sam grabbed for the length of it, and shoved the man back, pinning him by the throat against a rack of sunglasses and magazines. His eyes bulged, and Sam leaned more of his body weight against the rifle, when Mac’s loud voice cut across the blood pounding in his ears.

“Let him go, let him go right now, or I’ll shoot!” 

Sam turned his head, and he stumbled back away from the man, when he saw the barrel of Mac’s shotgun pressed to Higgs’ head. Mac had managed to overpower him, and Higgs was sprawled on his back on the ground, bleeding from a gash to his lower arm. Higgs was staring at him, his collar a solid amber, and Sam raised his hands placatingly, looking Mac in his cold, unforgiving eyes.

“The hell do you want from us?” Sam panted out. His vision was still slightly spinning, and he was unarmed, having dropped his handgun when he hit his head.

“Where’s Josh?” Mac snapped at him. He tightened his grip on the shotgun.

“Behind the counter.” Sam jerked a thumb over his shoulder, before adding hastily. “He’s alive, just knocked him out.”

“Go check it out.” Mac instructed someone Sam couldn’t see. A few seconds later, a fourth man’s voice called over that he was here, and Mac nodded in approval.

“Good. Now, the keys to your truck, assuming it’s yours.” Mac inclined his head to the side, and Sam caught the way Higgs shook his head minutely. They needed those supplies. They couldn’t make it even halfway to Portland without them.

“Sorry, we need those supplies too. Got a long journey ahead of us.” Sam tried to explain, and Mac let out a dismissive laugh.

“And we’ve gotta survive. It’s survival of the fittest. So I’ll ask again:  _ the keys.” _

Sam swallowed thickly, and weighed up his options. On the one hand, they could always backtrack a few day’s walk to Westmore, radio through to Die-Hardman, and wait out a Bridges’ convoy with more supplies. It could take weeks for the shipment to arrive, and they might die on the way to the outpost, but it was better than being gunned down and looted anyway. They could also try to fight these raiders, potentially winning, but most likely they would die trying. 

As Sam frantically tried to think, Mac grew impatient. He whistled to the fourth man, who walked over, past Sam, and took over pointing his gun at Higgs. Sam was suddenly shoved to his knees, and he felt the cold press of a rifle to his temple, prompting him to raise his hands behind his head. They were outnumbered, significantly, and Sam needed to speak up quickly before the situation turned deadly.

Mac, who was now stood behind Higgs, reached down with one big, bearlike hand, and wrapped his fingers under the metal of Higgs’ collar. “Come here, sweetheart.” He hauled Higgs back with it, cutting off his airway and dragging him back a few paces across the tiled floor. Higgs gasped for air, and started to struggle, and Sam could see his cheeks were turning a violent shade of pink, the longer the pressure was put on his throat.

“Don’t hurt him! We can talk!” Sam felt numb from the rising panic in his chest, but he could still feel where the barrel of the rifle dug against his skull, reminding him that his own life was also at stake. “We can split the supplies, give you half.” Higgs’ hands grasped and clawed at the metal cinched tight against his skin, and his body thrashed. His legs tried to stretch, and push him up to his feet, but it proved futile. He slumped again in Mac’s stronger hold, and his struggles grew weaker and weaker. “Just stop it!” 

“The keys.” Mac growled, and Sam cursed, as he saw the colour of Higgs’ collar begin to bleed over, into the occasional flash of red. 

“Okay! Hold on!” With shaking hands, Sam dug into his pockets. He pulled out the set of keys, and held them aloft for Mac to see. The pressure around Higgs’ throat immediately lessened, and Higgs gulped in a greedy mouthful of air, coughing roughly as saliva ran down his lower lip. His eyes were dazed, and unfocused, but Sam could see the pain in them. Sam had to be careful. He would give these men what they wanted, but they could still hurt either of them just for the thrill of it. “Take them. Truck’s yours. Just let him go.”

Mac still didn’t let go of Higgs. Instead, he jerked his chin in the direction of the keys, and the man holding Sam hostage snatched them from his grasp. “Go start the engine. We’ll be out shortly.” Sam didn’t miss the underlying threat in his voice, and he stayed still, his shaking hands resting on his knees. His gun was too far away to grab, and even if he had it, he wouldn’t be able to shoot either of the men in time to save them. 

Outside, Sam heard the truck rumble to life, and Higgs turned his watery eyes to Sam’s own. His expression was oddly resolute, despite the grip Mac still had to his collar, like he had accepted his fate, in whatever way it would come. Sam wondered what the raider had planned. Would he have Higgs shot first, and then Sam? Or would he shoot Sam first, and finish choking the life from Higgs, as his lifeless body bled out on the floor? 

Suddenly, Higgs surged forward, and he slashed his arm in a wide arc towards the man who was pointing the gun at him. Sam’s knife, where he had hidden it in his sleeve, sliced through the material of the man’s faded jeans, and ripped a deep gouge into the man’s femoral artery. As blood burst from the wound, the man shrieked in agony, and the blinking light on Higgs’ collar turned the same violent shade of red. 

Sam had seen the effect of the shock on Higgs before, but it still made him flinch, as Higgs’ whole body seized in agony from the burning pain. He screamed at the intensity, but as Sam watched, he wasn’t the only one affected by the surge. Behind him, Mac also yelled in agony, as the electricity coursed up his arm, and through his whole body. All three men dropped to the ground, writhing in pain, and Sam lunged forward, swiping up Mac’s shotgun and firing off a round into the closest man’s face. He then turned to Mac, who was jerking and twisting on the ground, and emptied the second round into his skull. 

The third man, the one who had taken the keys, came running back into the store, but Sam was quick to snatch up his own gun, and plug his chest full of lead before he could take aim. That left only Josh, but as he was still unconscious, Sam could catch his breath for a minute.

Behind him, Higgs was wheezing, those terrible gasped breaths from before, as his eyes screwed shut from the severity of the shock. Sam couldn’t believe that Higgs had come up with such a crazy, risky plan to save them, but it wasn’t like they had had many other choices. Turning back to Higgs, Sam pulled himself to his feet, leaning on the shelf to help the throbbing in his skull.

Blood and brain matter soaked the ground in the aisle, and broken glass crunched beneath Sam’s boots as he made his way to his fallen ally. He crouched, and wrapped his hands around Higgs’ upper arms, pulling him into a sitting position. Higgs was shaking less now, but his eyelids were still unable to fully open. A slurred, protesting groan left his heavy tongue at Sam’s touch.

“Higgs, it’s me. It’s just Sam.” Higgs immediately stopped fighting him, and his head rolled forward to rest against Sam’s shoulder. His breathing was thick, and phlegm filled, and Sam initially tensed at the contact, but he tolerated it for the sake of Higgs’ trembling muscles. “It’s okay, they’re gone. We killed ‘em.” 

Higgs didn’t reply, and Sam let him rest for a moment longer, before he started to pull them both to their feet. He would lay Higgs in the break room, and let him regain full feeling in his limbs, before he took him out to the truck. 

Once Higgs was settled on his sleeping bag, Sam began the arduous task of looting and clearing the gas station of any supplies, including the dead bodies that were now heaped on the floor. He started with Josh’s unconscious body, stabbing the man cleanly through the heart, before searching through his pockets for anything of use. 

Sam didn’t feel bad about killing him. If the raiders had left him and Higgs alone, he wouldn’t have killed any of them, but they had been left with no choice. Josh wasn’t carrying much, the smokes for Mac, a few handgun rounds, and a gun that had seen better days. He left the handgun behind, and took the ammo, before continuing his search for supplies.

It took him almost an hour, and by the time he was ready to shift Higgs to the truck, the man was already starting to move. Higgs cracked his eyes open as Sam approached, and he licked his dry lips, his voice croaky from the collar.

“That you, Sam?”

“Yeah. C’mon, we gotta get moving.”

“M’ comin.” Higgs let Sam support him as they walked, and as they stumbled together, Sam could hear the distant rolling of Timefall on the horizon. The Timefall didn’t care whether they had just survived a raider attack, or that they still had a long journey ahead of them. It simply fell wherever it pleased. The sound of it reminded Sam of his earlier nightmare, and of Higgs’ wild expression as they stood on the edge of the building. Thinking of that giant whale, and the way it’s face had split into three parts, still made his heart race. Sam shook off the memories, and closed the passenger door behind Higgs, before returning for their loot and belongings in the break room. If a storm was closing in, he would need to be fast.

Sam drove in silence away from the gas station. He left the violence of the morning in his rearview mirror, and counted the seconds between Higgs’ rasped breaths. Thankfully, Higgs only seemed dazed, and not in a life threatening condition. The bruising on his neck had barely faded from the previous shock, and now they were back with a vengeance. Sam couldn’t imagine how much the collar hurt, but if it was enough to bring a bear of a man like Mac to the ground, it had to be powerful. 

Higgs’ throat would be swollen for the next day or so, and he would need more painkillers to dull the ache, but Sam wasn’t low on medicine. He could afford Higgs that small amount of comfort for saving their lives.

The Timefall hit them a little after 10:00am, and the sound of it pelting against the windshield made Sam feel drowsy in his seat. The cabin was pleasantly warm, and his head was still throbbing, but he pushed on towards Jackson, and the outpost where he knew they would be safe. The landscape outside was bleak and barren, some areas more mud than road, but the truck’s wheels managed to push them through the thicker parts, and carry them over the deeper puddles. 

Beside him, Higgs slowly came back to himself, and a small whine notified Sam that the other man needed those painkillers now. With one hand on the wheel, Sam slowed down the truck, and dug out the pills from his pack, along with the tin of fruit candies. He passed both to Higgs, along with a bottle of water, and the other man took them gratefully, sinking back into his seat. 

Lightning rumbled overhead, and Sam positioned both hands on the wheel again, as the rains grew thicker and thicker. The truck creaked from the winds, being buffeted from the strength of the storm, and a particularly large pothole bounced them both in their seats. Sam had the wipers set to full, but it didn’t appear to even make a dent in the amount of water cascading down the glass. He decided to pull over, even for an hour, to let the worst of it pass. 

Higgs raised his head when they stopped, and regarded the sodden greyness outside with suspicion. The tar-rich scent of the rain made Sam’s lungs feel heavy. As the truck sat idling by the roadside, he took a drink of his own water, to try and ease the discomfort.

“You okay?” Sam asked. Higgs didn’t look settled at all.

“There’s BTs around.”

“Nearby?”

“A few in the fields. They haven’t noticed us.” Higgs shook his head, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing they needed right now was a herd to pass through, or God forbid, one of those bloated ones to come charging. “Okay. How’s your arm?”

The deep gash on Higgs’ inner arm had scabbed over, but it had smeared blood all over his skin, and was likely to reopen without medical attention. “M’okay.” Higgs’ voice was still thick from the swelling on his throat, and talking seemed painful.

Sam reached over, and popped the glove compartment open next to Higgs’ knees. He pulled out a first aid kit and a rag, and unzipped the small, red pack on his lap. He poured a little alcohol from a bottle onto the rag, and started to clean off the injury, which made Higgs hiss at the sting. Sam’s own skin was crawling at this rate, and he felt Higgs’ eyes lift to his face, assessing, and reading his expression.

“Not fond of contact, are you?” He rasped, and Sam hesitated, before he shook his head slowly. “Don’t gotta force yourself. I can do this.” Higgs reached for the rag, but Sam shook his head again more emphatically.

“I got it.” 

Higgs was quiet for a minute, and Sam finished wiping the blood from his arm, before he continued. “Noticed you didn’t like it, back at the library.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“S’okay.” Higgs stayed still as Sam started to stitch him up, keeping his own hands to himself, only occasionally wincing at the tugging of the thread. “Can I ask why?”

At first, Sam hesitated in telling Higgs the truth. The question hit a little too close to home for his liking, and the memories it brought back made him feel sick. However, Higgs had shared his own background, so it only seemed fair that Sam did the same. 

“Never liked it. Got orphaned as a baby, and even though I was adopted fairly quickly, they weren’t like a real family, not really. They were always busy, and…” Sam trailed off awkwardly. He hadn’t spoken about this in years, and the words got stuck in his throat. He continued to work the needle, and Higgs let him pause, until his nerves had settled some more. “They found out about the things I could sense, the BTs and stuff, and they were pretty interested in that. Was just a few years after the outbreak, so the whole obsession with finding a cure was still pretty big.” 

“They made you a lab rat?” Higgs frowned, and Sam hummed in agreement, refusing to look the other man in the eye. 

“They wanted me to be a part of their research, with two other kids that showed potential. Spent a lot of my early childhood in and out of labs, giving blood, taking pills, getting injected with shit. Wouldn’t even tell me what was in those shots.” 

“Sounds a lot like Bridges.” Higgs sighed. Sam had begun to wind the bandage around his arm by now, his fingers only minutely hesitating now at touching Higgs’ warm skin. Sam wouldn’t tell Higgs that his mother figure, the woman who had pushed him into those experiments, was the President herself. Higgs didn’t need to know he was that closely linked to Bridges, hell, Sam barely acknowledged their connection himself. “What happened to the other kids?”

“They died, and the program got shut down when I was 6. I wasn’t gonna give them the magical cure they wanted, so there wasn’t much point carrying on.”

Higgs was quiet for a long time after that, and Sam was almost certain that he had fallen asleep, but when he looked up into the other man’s deep blue eyes, he could see they were full of pain, and sadness.  _ For him. _ Higgs also looked exhausted, and Sam’s confession seemed to have left him at a loss for words. Perhaps Sam had said too much. He tied off the bandage, and rolled Higgs’ sleeve back down, before zipping up the first aid kit and putting it away with the rag.

“I’m sorry, Sammy.” Higgs’ sincere apology made some of the tension and shame fade from Sam’s shoulders, and Sam rubbed a hand over his face in relief, staring out at the rain. “Looks like Bridges screwed both of us over, huh?” 

“Yeah. It’s what they do.” Sam shrugged one shoulder. The Timefall was still hammering down pretty strongly, and there was no point in setting off again just yet when they couldn’t see more than a few metres in front of them. “Thanks, by the way, for what you did. I thought we were both gonna die back there, but that was some quick thinking. It was crazy reckless, n’you scared me half to death, but it worked.”

“I told you, didn’t I?” Higgs half closed his eyes. He sank lower in his seat, and rested his arms loosely in his lap. “If it came down to it, I’d put my life on the line for you. I trust you, Sam.”

Sam nodded, remembering the truce that they had made in the truck only yesterday. Already, that felt like a lifetime ago. Sam’s head spun from the ramifications of the choices he had already made on this trip, and the ones he was currently making, by letting Higgs into his life. “Try get some shut eye. We’ll get going as soon as the rain slows.” 

“What’ll you do in the meantime?” 

“I dunno. You got something I can read?” 

Higgs gave him a sleepy smile, and reached down his side to retrieve his bag. He pressed the familiar wildlife book into Sam’s hands, and Sam took it reverentially. He ran his fingers over the cover, and flipped it open to the contents page.

“Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome, Sammy.”


	9. Somebody like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> YEEHAW we are back with Chapter 9 this time babey 🍕! This chapter is a little longer than usual, as it didn't feel right to cut it off halfway down the middle! Hope you enjoy and once again thank you for sticking around!
> 
> Mud, rain, and more mud, our boys find themselves a place to rest and recuperate out of the weather. After the attack at the gas station, our boys are unsure of what to make of their newfound closeness, or what it means for the future of their journey. Plenty of H/C in this chapter, with a side of Higgs feels!
> 
> Also, Thank you very much everyone for your interesting responses to my previous question! ♡ My question to you all this update is: What do you want to see in the future of this universe? I am always taking your feedback into account, and I love hearing your predictions about the upcoming plot! So please indulge me with your predictions! >:)c
> 
> *IMPORTANT*
> 
> Traditional TLS-Verse warnings apply to this chapter, including: Canon-typical violence and gore, Power Imbalance, Forced Captivity, and Explicit Language. This chapter also includes graphic descriptions of child abuse, and UncleDaddy's shitty, shitty parenting. For a full list of warnings, check the top notes of Chapter 1!

*

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way

What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

_ No, I don't want to fall in love _

_ With you _

*

They continued their journey southward, down through Fairmont and Buckhannon, on their way to Jackson. Since the attack at the gas station, the Timefall barely let up longer than an hour at a time, and by the fourth day, Sam was truly sick of it. The roads had become quagmires, making their journey to the outpost even longer than it needed to be, and it was getting harder and harder to find buildings to rest in that weren’t overrun by BTs, or too dilapidated to use as shelter. 

Luckily, the truck was roomy enough to sleep in at night, with Higgs’ longer body in the backseats, and the driver’s seat reclined enough for Sam to be comfortable. It had been novel, at first, and Higgs had proclaimed it was better than any drafty old motel, but even the most seasoned of Porters began to feel stir crazy seeing the same truck cabin day after day. They stretched their legs, and timed their bathroom breaks according to the weather, but it was evident that they would need to find another alternative soon, before their patiences ran thin.

Night had fallen across West Virginia, and Sam’s back was aching. The constant mud, and rain, and flashes of thunder were making him irritable, and tense. Perhaps he was getting too old for this job. Behind him, Higgs was grumpy, too, for the same reasons as Sam, but neither of them could do anything about the current situation. They would have to just keep ploughing on, and keep an eye out for shelter.

“Said it once, I’ll say it again.” Higgs’ voice drifted up from the back seats. He was already comfortable in his sleeping bag, and his cheek rested on his balled up coat. “I hate the Goddamn rain.”

“Hm.” Sam grunted, as he turned a bend in the road, and steered out of the way of a fallen tree. They were approaching the edge of the Monongahela National Forest, or what remained of it. The route was littered in fallen debris, branches, rocks, mudslides and more.

“What I wouldn’t give for a nice, long shower right now, and some of that stew you cooked us back at Westmore, served up hot with a slice of bread.” Higgs groaned, and Sam sighed in agreement. They hadn’t encountered any more raiders, or large groups of BTs, in a couple of days. If the weather was more pleasant, he might have been able to find them a stream to bathe in. As it was, the only water in sight was the stuff falling from the sky, and it would burn their skin on contact, turning their flesh weathered, and sickly. “Even Bridges, fuck the lot of them, gave me a shower. Even if it was cold, it was something.”

It was the first time Higgs had voluntarily described part of his prison sentence to Sam, and the small anecdote caught his interest. He glanced at Higgs in the rearview mirror. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Used to have my own little hygiene routine, watched 24/7 of course. Fucking perverts don’t give you a moment’s peace, even when you’re washing your ass.”

“Sounds like Bridges.” Sam could recall a few times he had been showering in his apartment, when Die-Hardman, or another Bridges employee, had buzzed through on his radio. “Guess they had to make sure you weren’t trying anything.”

“What, like escaping down the drain?” Higgs let out a snort of a laugh, and Sam felt the corners of his mouth twitch at the sound. “I know, I know. Trust me, they spared no expense in makin’ my life a fucking misery.”

“I believe you.” Sam was itching with questions, but he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to upset the other man when there was little to no breathing room in the truck as it was. Higgs was slowly opening up to him, as the journey wore on. Perhaps by the time they reached Portland, when they finally said goodbye to one another, he would know all the answers to all of his questions.

_ Portland. _

Just thinking about the city, thousands of miles from their current location, made Sam’s head spin. They had weeks, and months ahead of them, side by side, against whatever the world could throw at them. It was a monumental task, one that had sounded straightforward at the Central Knot distribution centre. Now, in the wilderness of West Virginia, Sam was beginning to wish that he had ignored Die-Hardman’s request, and stuck to delivering in and around the city instead.

Except, that wasn’t entirely true. As much as Sam hated their current situation, he couldn’t deny that there was a part of him that enjoyed Higgs’ company. The other man could be crude, and obnoxious, and definitely enjoyed making the occasional flirtatious comment to see Sam squirm, but he was already so different to when they had first met. 

Sam could remember the way Higgs had goaded Harrison into punching him, how his blood had looked smeared on the hood of the truck, and the insufferable first few hours he had relentlessly teased Sam from the back seats. The Higgs he knew today was still just as annoying, but he was also providing to be a loyal companion. He hadn’t made fun of Sam for his dislike of being touched, and had trusted him at the church when they were pinned down by BTs. He had even put his life on the line, at the gas station, for the slim chance they would survive. 

Every now and again, the old Higgs would rear his head, as if trying to remind Sam that he was, once, a force to be reckoned with. However, this new, more human Higgs, was becoming something close to a friend. After they finally parted ways at Portland, Sam couldn’t help but wonder what would happen, to both of them. He would drive back home, alone, back to his grey apartment in Central Knot, and probably carry on Porting until he died. Higgs would be gone, wherever Bridges decided to put him, and the likelihood of them ever getting in contact with each other again was next to none. It was a sobering fact, one that Sam was becoming increasingly less and less comfortable with as time went by.

“Look, Sammy.” Higgs had sat up, and was pointing towards a sign at the corner of the road. It was barely visible through the rain, but Sam could make out the faded name of a lodge park. He slowed down the truck, and turned onto a narrow, dirt track, leading into the trees. Higgs climbed out of his sleeping bag, and through into the passenger seat, so he could see the route up ahead. The canopy above them was dense, and it sheltered them from the majority of the storm, leaving only large, heavy drops to occasionally splat the windshield. 

After around a mile of dark woodland, the trail opened up to a set of 6 cabins, each overrun with moss and vines, but still in good condition. The grass in the clearing, perhaps once maintained, was almost knee high in places. It swayed slowly, like a sea of green, and hid the gravel path that faintly crunched beneath their tyres. The forest, it seemed, had sheltered the buildings from the worst of the Timefall, and although there were definite signs of dilapidation, particularly on the roofs, it looked like a safe place to spend the night.

“Feel anything?” Sam turned to Higgs, who was scanning the clearing with a cautious expression.

“Two, but just the regular kind. One’s in that cabin, the other’s wandering the trees.” Higgs pointed towards the furthest cabin from the truck, which had a partially caved-in roof. They wouldn’t have stayed in that building anyway, so they could safely keep their distance. “You thinkin’ we should stay here?”

“Worth a shot, isn’t it?” Sam grabbed his backpack, and pulled on his coat, making sure his hood was raised well over the top of his head. Higgs followed suit, and together, they made a quick dash through the grass towards the closest lodge.

The door’s old, rusted lock broke when Sam rammed it with his shoulder, and the air inside the cabin was ice cold. It was dry, save for where the rain leaked through the corners of the window panes. Once the door was closed, the sound of the storm outside was reduced to a low roar. The furniture inside was covered in dust sheets, and Higgs drew back the covers on an old, plush sofa, folding it over his arm and dumping it on the ground. He uncovered two more armchairs, a coffee table, and a small dining area, as Sam checked the perimeter and removed his coat. 

“Looks like this place is pretty much untouched.” Sam commented, as he ran his fingers through the dust on a nearby curtain. The fabric was faded, and smelled musty, like everything else in the cabin. Fortunately, it was free of spores. “Must’a been closed when the outbreak hit. Don’t see any suitcases.”

“Me neither.” By the light of the moon, and the occasional flash of lightning, Higgs crouched by the fireplace, and set about starting them a fire. He found a box of matches on the mantelpiece, and the log bucket was still full, with old lumps of coal sitting at the bottom. It wouldn’t make a big fire, but it would certainly light up the small space, and give them some warmth.

Sam took out his torch, and shone it around the kitchenette, hovering over a calendar that displayed the year and month of the outbreak. The picture, in the month of November, showed a view from atop one of the park’s highest peaks. The snapshot in time reminded Sam of the magazine in his backpack, and the photograph of the smiling family, at their tropical resort. This cabin had probably, in the past, been rented by dozens of families, or lone individuals looking to step away from the demands of everyday city life. Had Sam lived before the outbreak, he was sure he would have had a cabin just like this one, where he could enjoy his own company. He would have gone fishing, hiked the trails, maybe even had a dog to keep him company.

Shaking himself of his daydreams, Sam turned to Higgs, who was coaxing a fire into life on the other side of the room. He strode over, and sat on one of the arm chairs, removing his boots and setting his pack down by his feet. 

“Coming along okay?”

“Yeah, looks like it’s gonna be a good one.” Higgs sat back, his palms braced behind him on the rug, and his socked feet stretched out in front of him. He tilted his head back, and shook out his hair, which had been growing steadily more wild and unkempt since Westmore. Tomorrow, if the weather permitted it, Sam would try to find them a stream, if only to get the grime of the road, and the sweat of the day from their bodies. Higgs turned his head, and caught Sam staring at him, and Sam saw the other man’s mouth curve into a smile.

“What?” Higgs’ voice was light, teasing, and Sam turned his face away, pretending to rummage in his bag for something. 

“Nothin’.” Sam lied, and he didn’t miss the way Higgs snorted out a soft, disbelieving breath through his nose. Inside the bag, Sam found Higgs’ old handcuffs, that hadn’t been used in days. He kept them handy, just in case, but they were no longer a priority in Sam’s eyes. Higgs had been behaving himself well enough without them, and putting them back on felt like a step in the wrong direction. 

Delving deeper, Sam’s fingers brushed over the walkman, still balled up in his hoodie, and protected from harm. Slowly, he pulled out the device, and turned the cold metal over in his hands. It still had some battery, perhaps a few hours at best. They would need to charge it at the next outpost, provided they had electricity. 

“What’s that?”

“Music player. Picked it up a long time ago. Ain’t much on it.”

“It still work?” Higgs looked very interested, so Sam crawled down from the armchair, and walked over on his knees, so that he could show Higgs the small screen. The earphones were a little tangled, so as Higgs played around with the simple buttons, Sam set about unwrapping them from each other. 

“Yeah. Here, put this one in.” Sam held up the right earphone, and Higgs placed it gently in his ear. Sam did the same with the left bud, and he scrolled the small library, until he came to a calm, guitar tune, one of his favourites to listen to while walking. The male vocals were soft, and they warmed his chest, reminding him of countless treks in the past in and around Central Knot. As they listened, Sam stared into the growing fire, and Higgs wrapped an arm around one of his knees, keeping quiet so that he could listen to the music. Neither of them spoke a word for the entirety of the track, and when it was finished, Higgs removed the bud, giving Sam a wide, appreciative smile.

“That was real nice, Sam. Think I could’a fallen asleep, if not for the fire.” He leaned forward, and placed another log in the flames, before sitting back on his palms once again. “You got more?”

“Yeah.” Sam chose the next song, and the next, and the music, coupled with the flickering light from the fire, began to make him feel increasingly drowsy. He looked over at Higgs, to find the other man’s eyelids were barely open, and his body had begun to tilt, one shoulder lightly brushing against Sam’s own. “Hey,” Sam murmured, and Higgs’ head slowly raised. He took a deep breath through his nose, and rubbed over his eyes, before yawning into his hand.

“Sorry. Guess it’s late, huh, Sammy?”

“Yeah. Let’s get settled.”

“Thanks for sharing that with me. We should do it again, tomorrow.” 

“Yeah. We can.” Sam switched off the player, and wrapped the earphone cables around it, before he placed it back in his bag.

Despite the alluring comfort of the fire, which was now crackling away at full strength, they both stood up, and set about making their beds for the night. Sam unrolled their sleeping bags, while Higgs created a nest made of couch cushions, and throw pillows. They positioned themselves in front of the fire, closest to its warmth, and once they were both laid out, facing one another, Sam felt that familiar knot return to his stomach. 

At the gas station, they had been forced to lay close together, almost uncomfortably so. Yet here, despite the size of the cabin, they had still ended up barely a metre from each other, within touching distance. In the light of the fire, Sam could see Higgs’ throat was almost completely healed of bruising, and the stitching on his forearm looked healthy and clean. The lighting cast interesting shadows on the other man’s face, and his cheeks were flushed from the heat of the fire, his long eyelashes and hair looking almost golden from the glow.

“You’re doin’ it again.”

“What?” Sam blinked tiredly, and Higgs let out a small chuckle.

“Staring. I got somethin’ on my face?”

“No.” Sam answered, far too quickly to be casual. He tried, again, but it only seemed to increase Higgs’ suspicion. “No, just making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” Higgs yawned into his hand, again. The rain outside was still hammering down, and the drumming of the drops on the window panes was making them both sleepier. “Are  _ you  _ okay?”

“Yeah.” Sam replied awkwardly. He turned onto his back, and fixed his gaze on the ceiling instead, picking out old cracks and lines in the paintwork. Higgs was quiet for a minute, before he spoke up again.

“You can talk, you know, if you’ve got somethin’ on your mind.”

“Just been a long few days. Feels good to finally relax somewhere that ain’t the truck.”

“Amen to that.” Higgs crossed himself theatrically, and Sam smiled over at him, watching the other man settle deeper into his bag.

When Sam next opened his eyes, he could see sunlight creeping through the cabin windows, and hear the distant calls of birds in the forest. After such a long marathon of nothing but rain, the clear weather was a welcome transition. Sam stretched out his legs, and itched over his stomach, before turning his head to see if Higgs was awake yet. 

_ Higgs wasn’t in his sleeping bag. _

The absence of the other man sent a bolt of panic through Sam’s chest. He leapt to his feet, and grabbed his boots, tugging them on mid step before he threw open the door to the cabin. Outside, in the light of day, the lodge park seemed far bigger than Sam remembered, and the amount of places a person could hide, and directions they could run in, left Sam struggling to choose where to start. 

Sam was about to take off in the direction of the road, when he heard someone clear their throat nearby. He turned, and saw Higgs on the porch with him, sitting on the weathered remains of a log bench. He was sipping from a bottle of water, and wriggled his fingers in greeting at Sam, who was still in a state of panic. 

“Mornin’ Sammy.”

Sam turned to face Higgs properly, and folded his arms, fighting to keep his tone calm, and reasonable. “What the hell, Higgs? I thought you’d run off. Don’t do that again.”

“I thought about it.” Higgs crossed one leg over the other, appearing to brush off Sam’s concern. “Then I chose not to. Figured I stand a better chance of surviving with my partner, rather than wandering into raider territory alone.”

“Your…” Sam trailed off, Higgs’ use of ‘partner’ swaying his resolve. He ploughed on after a second, unwilling to let Higgs off lightly. “Look, just tell me next time you’re going out, got it?”

“You got it, Sammy.” 

Now that finding Higgs was taken care of, Sam let his gaze return to the rest of the park. Beneath the overgrowth, the ground was still muddy, and damp, but the bright morning sun, and clear sky above them, had taken the worst of the chill. There wasn’t even a whisper of wind, just a steady, quiet, calm. Sam took a deep breath through his nose, letting the clean air clear his head.

“You wanna find a stream or something? Clean up?” Sam offered, and Higgs rose to his feet, finishing off his bottle of water.

“Sure. You lead the way.” 

They wouldn’t go far. Sam didn’t feel comfortable leaving their truck so out in the open, even with how remote at the park was. From the back of the truck, he grabbed them both a spare change of clothing, their laundry, his wash bag, and a pair of towels, all of which he folded into a duffel bag for Higgs to carry. He pulled out a shotgun, for safety, and made sure it was loaded, along with his handgun and knife, in case they ran into trouble in the woods. Lastly, he locked up the truck, and tucked the keys into his pocket. Sam hadn’t seen any signs of a stream on his way up, but in the centre of the park, he had spotted a bulletin board, with a faded, painted map in its centre. 

Through the flakey paint, Sam could discern that there was a lake nearby, with a stream leading down into it from one of the higher peaks. It looked to be almost a 15 minute walk, which was borderline to Sam’s comfort level. It was further than he liked, but the longer they stood in the sun, the more Sam’s clothes felt itchy, and uncomfortable. If there was an opportunity to bathe, they would have to take it.

Sam led the way through the dense forest, towards where the map had indicated. The path was barely visible, after all this time, and mud squelched under their boots as they walked. Luckily, they both had a good sense of direction, navigating the trail with ease. Above their heads, birds called to one another in the branches, and Sam found himself letting some of his usual guard down, enjoying the walk, rather than constantly poised for danger. 

Beside him, Higgs ran his hands over the various trees and plants that they passed. He bent to inspect the more harmless looking mushrooms, and craned his neck to see if he could spot any creatures living above them. Despite his curiosity, he stayed close to Sam, and never complained about the mud, or the damp seeping into his trousers from the tall grass.

“Hey, Higgs?” Sam carefully climbed over a fallen tree, and the surface of the bark was covered in soft, green moss. He waited on the other side, and Higgs clambered over, his long limbs and lanky frame making much shorter work of the thick trunk. 

“Yeah?”

“When you first got above ground, what’d you think?”

“Of the world?”

“Yeah.” Sam hoped that Higgs wouldn’t clam up. It seemed almost the perfect time to ask such a question, surrounded as they were by the natural splendour of the world. Out here, Sam could almost forget that the virus existed, and pretend that the biggest threat to him right now was slipping in the dirt, and twisting his ankle.

Higgs thought for a moment, formulating his answer. The question didn’t seem to make him uncomfortable, merely speculative. Perhaps it had been a while since he had returned to that memory himself. 

“Overwhelmed, at first. Everything was so much more beautiful than the pictures in my books, so much more full of life, even if it was half dead and dangerous. I spent the first few days just wandering, touchin’ things, smellin’ things, breathing in the air. I had no idea where I was in the world, or what I was gonna find beyond that old, vault door. Daddy would come and go, but he never told me what for, and his clothes would always come back blackened and dirty. All he ever said was that the world was dangerous, and that the best place for me was inside, where the monsters couldn’t get me.”

“‘Monsters’, meaning, the BTs?” Sam paused at the base of a rocky shelf, and turned back to Higgs. He crouched, and cupped his hands together, giving Higgs a small nod. “Let me give you a boost?”

“Thanks.” Higgs carefully placed his foot inside Sam’s palms, and between the two of them, he quickly clambered over the lip of the ledge. From there, Higgs turned back, and offered down a hand to pull Sam up. “And yeah, the BTs. He used to tell me about them, sometimes, I think just to scare me into compliance.”

“Did it work?” Once he was standing beside Higgs, Sam scuffed his muddy palms off on his trousers.

“Yeah. Although, I used to have nightmares about him coming home with a bite, and me being locked down there, trapped as he turned. I told him about them, once, and he just laughed. I think he enjoyed it, seeing me afraid.”

“What a dick.” Sam ducked under a thick branch, and behind him, he heard Higgs laugh bitterly. “You ever go back and see him?”

“Couldn’t even if I wanted to.” Higgs replied cryptically, before adding, more softly. “I killed him.”

“What?” Sam paused then, and Higgs almost bumped into him. They stood, facing each other in the trees, and Sam felt a shiver of cold wash over him.  _ “Why?” _

“I finally had enough. I wanted to escape. I spent weeks planning it, packing up a small bag of belongings, taking little things here and there so he wouldn’t get suspicious. Had no idea where I was gonna go, just knew I’d had enough of the beatings, of the constant terror, of waking up and feeling his…his...” Higgs trailed off, and a wave of pain and stress passed over his features. The collar at his neck flickered into amber, and Sam caught the implication, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

Sam didn’t interrupt, just let Higgs organise his thoughts. It took a few seconds, before Higgs swallowed, and continued. “I got caught stealing, and when he found out why, he began giving me the worst beating of my life. He was howling at me, spit flying, like one of the monsters he’d always told me about. I backed up into a corner, in the kitchen, and he grabbed me. He started choking me out, putting his big hands around my throat, white knuckling until I swear I could feel my bones grinding. I didn’t even know the knife was in my hand until I buried it in his neck.” 

Sam pressed his lips into a thin line, and he watched as Higgs’ frame drew tighter, his shoulders hunched. The memories seemed all encompassing, and Sam could read the discomfort written into every cell in the other man’s body. It was a horrific recollection, but Sam was determined to listen to every word of it, so long as Higgs was willing to share. It couldn’t have been easy to talk about, even after so many years.

“After that first stab, it just got easier. I kept stabbing him, every part of him that I could reach. His grip got weaker, and weaker, and he collapsed on the floor of the kitchen. His blood was everywhere, on my hands, my shirt, my feet. All in the tiles, and all over him. Could barely breathe, even after he let go. Just stood there, shaking and crying.” Higgs shook his head, and slowly, he looked up, meeting Sam’s troubled expression.

“Then you ran away?”

“Yeah.” Higgs breathed in through his nose, and Sam could hear it was a little damp. The other man was blinking rapidly, and Sam watched him avert his gaze once more, to the path ahead. His collar was blue again, calm, and Sam took that as a good sign. “So to answer your question, yeah, it was overwhelming. It was scary, ‘cause I didn’t know a damn thing about survival, but I never wanted to spend a single minute in one of those concrete tombs again.” 

“Yeah, I get you. Thanks, Higgs, and... I’m sorry about that asshole.”

“Thanks, Sammy.” 

They continued their hike in silence, but it was not an uncomfortable one. Sam was content to give Higgs space after answering such difficult questions, and Higgs seemed happy to continue his indulgent observation of the woods around them. Once again, Sam was struck with a newfound sense of respect for Higgs. Higgs was by no means a good man, but he had survived a great deal of hardship, and had come out fighting. His resolve to keep moving was admirable, where lesser men might have been left broken.

A few minutes later, Sam’s ears picked up the sound of flowing water, and judging by Higgs’ perked up expression, so had he. They followed the sound to its source, and discovered a wide, winding stream, lazily flowing down from the hillsides beyond. It didn’t appear dangerously deep, perhaps up to their waist at the most, and the shore was littered in large, flat rocks that could easily be used to lay their laundry on. 

“Looks chilly.” Higgs observed, as he stepped closer to the edge of the water. It was the middle of winter, but it wasn’t as though they were planning on soaking in the stream. They would enter the water, wash themselves off quickly from head to foot, and dry off in towels before working on their laundry. 

As Sam turned his head, to ask Higgs who should bathe first, he noticed that the other man was already undressing. Higgs had set down his bag, and had pulled his shirt and jumper over his head, leaving his pale, bare torso exposed to the outer air. Sam looked away, quickly, feeling his cheeks flood with heat. He was far from a prude, but Sam didn’t want to accidentally catch an eyeful of Higgs’ nude body. They weren’t that familiar with each other, just yet. 

“What’s the matter, Sammy? You feelin’ shy, sugar?”

“No, just, hurry up. There’s soap and stuff in the bag.” 

Higgs was definitely feeling better, it seemed. The man snickered from behind him, and Sam heard the water splash, before Higgs’ voice echoed, much louder, in the open air of the stream. “Je-sus fucking  _ Christ _ ! Holy  _ shit  _ this is cold!” Sam smiled, and shook his head fondly. Higgs continued to splash, and his constant, vocal, and explicit complaints made the Porter’s shoulders shake minutely. “Are you  _ laughing  _ at me, Sammy?”

“No.” Sam was. Despite his best efforts, Sam was actually starting to laugh, and that surprised even himself. 

“You’ll see!” Higgs called to him. “When it’s your turn, I’ll be the one laughing at you!”

Ignoring him, Sam wandered along the shoreline a few metres, and took a seat on one of the larger boulders he could see. Higgs continued to gripe, and whine at the temperature, but before long, he emerged from the water, shivering and wet. He appeared at Sam’s side, bundled in a towel, using a corner of it to rub moisture from his hair. 

“Your turn, jerk.”

“Alright. You stay here, warm up.” Sam patted the boulder, and Higgs perched on the edge of it. His bare shins were covered in goosebumps, where they peeked out from under the blue fabric.

Sam took to the water with a lot less complaining, but he still cursed under his breath, as the icy water washed over his muscles. He was used to a cold shower, but the recent memories of the toasty hot cabin from last night were making him feel the chill more than usual. He scrubbed himself from head to toe, taking less time than Higgs, and as soon as he was done, he grabbed his own towel from the shore. Thankfully, Higgs seemed to have kept his eyes to himself, and instead of teasing him when he approached, the other man shuffled over to make room for Sam on their makeshift bench.

“We’ll do our laundry once we’re dry.” Sam pointed to the duffel bag, which had their clothes from the last few days in it.

“I’m never getting out of this towel.” Higgs shivered again, before he scooted closer to Sam. “Hey, you remember what we read, about what penguins do to keep warm?”

“Uh-huh.” Sam regarded Higgs with a flat expression. He knew what Higgs was getting at.

“I think we should do it. Huddle, I mean.” 

“Seriously?” Sam was in disbelief at the boldness of Higgs’ proposition. He didn’t want anyone leaning on him like that, let alone an ex-terrorist that seemed intent on getting in his pants, or his towel, for that matter. “Go get your clothes on. You’ll feel warmer.”

Higgs rolled his eyes, and pushed off from the rock. He didn’t appear overly dejected, as with every time Sam refused his advances. It was more of a game for him, a way of teasing Sam, without getting too personal. At least, Sam hoped that that was the case.

Sam sat on the rock for a little longer, and once he was dryer, he also got dressed into a new pair of jeans, and a red, plaid shirt that he had reserved for fairer weather. Afterwards, they bustled about sorting the laundry together, with Higgs only narrowly avoiding letting a pair of Sam’s underwear float off downstream. Sam had taken over his station after that, and entrusted Higgs with bundling their wet clothes back into the duffel bag. It wasn’t quite sunny enough anymore to dry their things on the rocks, so they decided they would hang them in the cabin instead, with another fire.

On the way back to the cabin, feeling a lot cleaner, Sam thought very little of the road ahead, and the raiders that Higgs had warned him about. For now, he was happy to simply exist in this moment, hiking through the woods with someone he might perhaps call a friend. Higgs appeared to be in high spirits as well, humming a tune under his breath that Sam recognised from the music player. 

It was nice, Sam ultimately concluded, to travel with Higgs. Sam hoped that somewhere, in that wild, unpredictable brain of his, the other man felt the same.


	10. Cast Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> YEEHAW we are back with Chapter 10 🍕! SO sorry for the delay in updating. I've been going through some personal stuff since we last saw each other, and I finally have the space and energy to write more of our boys road trip across America! Hope you enjoy, and thank you for your patience!
> 
> Once again on the road to Jackson, but with the threat of the raiders never too far behind, a sudden twist in the tale leaves Sam struggling to pick up the pieces. With their plans thrown into disarray, our Porter makes a new friend, but who are they, and what do they want?
> 
> Also, Thank you very much everyone for your comments/answers so far! ♡ My questions to you all this update are: Do you believe that Bridges could ever make a cure in the TLS universe? If Yes, what inhumane things do you think Bridges would be prepared to do, if it meant that humanity could be saved?
> 
> ...This question is definitely not related to the future plot :) not at all...
> 
> *IMPORTANT*
> 
> Traditional TLS-Verse warnings apply to this chapter, including: Canon-typical violence and gore, Power Imbalance, Forced Captivity, and Explicit Language. For a full list of warnings, check the top notes of Chapter 1!

*

This deadly burst of snow is burning my hands,

I'm frozen to the bones, I am

A million miles from home, I'm walking away

I can't remind your eyes, your face.

*

Sam dreamt again that night, as they lay stretched out in front of the fire, the embers crackling and popping in a soothing ambience. They had decided to stay one more night in the cabin, putting off the arduous journey ahead of them in favour of the good company, and the peaceful down time that came with the remoteness of the woods. Laying in his sleeping bag, with Higgs scarcely a metre from him, Sam began to toss and turn, as the tranquillity of his slumber turned to turmoil.

_ In his dream, Sam stood beside Higgs, in the midst of another Timefall storm. Only this time, instead of a Distribution Centre, Sam was surrounded by trees not unlike the ones at the cabin site. Higgs was knelt in the dirt, his skin and clothes soaked with the rain, and his eyes were screwed shut from pain. At first, Sam thought it was the Timefall that was bringing such agony to his expression. However, on closer inspection, Higgs’ pale skin was mottled in bruises, and his battered, exposed arms were wrapped around his midsection, as though protecting his vulnerable stomach.  _

_ Crouching beside Higgs, Sam slowly reached out a hand, and was received with a wordless, feral snarl from the other man. Pushing away from him, Higgs crawled away across the sodden earth, and from between his thighs, blood trailed behind him. Stunned, Sam made no attempt to follow, and merely watched as Higgs pulled himself behind a tree, his limbs stiff with pain, and his face contorted in a mixture of terror and despair. _

_ Just as Sam rose to his feet to follow, a loud thunderclap shook the forest, and the rain pelted down harder through the branches. Tar began to seep up through the ground, and Sam fought to tug his feet free of the swelling quagmire, as he stumbled after Higgs. He didn’t want the other man to get stuck in the tar, or possibly drown, as it continued to rise at a frightening pace. _

_ “Higgs!” Sam yelled into the storm, but he received no reply. “Higgs, come on! We need to go!” _

_ Higgs didn’t emerge from behind the tree, and when Sam managed to peer around its thick truck, he could see no sign of the other man. He had simply vanished, as though swallowed by the blackened tides. There wasn’t so much as a ripple to suggest he had ever been there. “Higgs!” Sam fought to make his voice heard above the storm, and he turned in a circle on the spot, frantically trying to spot his companion between the trees. By now, the tar was up to his waist, and climbing.  _

_ A scream suddenly cut through the rain, inhuman, but definitely Higgs. Sam couldn’t work out what direction it came in. It was equal parts fearful, and anguished, and as it faded, another shortly followed it. They seemed to shake the surface of the tar, and vibrate the cold earth beneath it. It hurt Sam’s ears, and brought goosebumps to his skin.  _

_ Sam picked a direction, and started to walk for as long as he could. Then, before he could process what was happening, something grabbed his legs, and tugged him under the blackness. _

Sam jerked awake in his sleeping bag to find Higgs’ face barely a foot from his own. His body was surrounded by warmth, but the ghostly chill of the tar still tingled his muscles, as he slowly came to his senses. Higgs, who was still leaning close on his hands and knees, was staring at him strangely. He looked as though he had something on his mind, but was holding back deliberately, in favour of letting Sam collect his own thoughts first.

“Bad dream.” Sam offered, by way of explanation, and Higgs sat back, with his hands resting in his lap. He gave Sam a sidelong look, before holding out a bottle of water, which Sam accepted eagerly. 

“I could tell. You were tossin’ and turning so much I thought you were gonna roll right out the door.” Higgs chewed on the corner of his thumbnail, and his eyes remained trained on Sam’s face as he drank. “You were callin’ out to me, again, and not in the fun way.”

“I was?” Sam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and sat up fully. He shed the warm cocoon of a bag down to his waist, and scruffed a hand through his hair. 

“Yeah. Woke me up.” Higgs’ tone was playfully annoyed, but despite the theatrics Sam sighed.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

It was as though someone were holding up a mirror to Sam’s face, as the less foggy parts of his brain recalled an earlier conversation in their journey. Higgs had had a nightmare, one that left him shaking and near-hyperventilating, and he had initially blown Sam off the moment he had expressed concern over his well being. Now, the tables were turned, and Sam was left wondering how he could explain what he had seen in his nightmares, when the subject of said-vision was the man sitting in front of him.

“Uh…” Sam replied intelligently, and Higgs paused in his fidgeting, waiting for Sam to go on. “You...we were in a Timefall storm.”

“Yeah?” Higgs stretched his arms above his head, before he let them drop into his lap once more. 

“You’d vanished. I was trying to find you, but tar started comin’ out the ground. Was up to my waist in minutes.” 

So far, so good. Higgs hadn’t laughed at Sam. Yet. Higgs tilted his head in interest, his clear, blue eyes trained on Sam’s own. Something about his expression made Sam feel grounded. There was a patience there that was rare, and genuine, without a hint of teasing. It was only a nightmare, but Higgs knew to be quiet, and attentive all the same.

“Earlier though...I...you were on the ground. Looked like you were in pain, hunching over like this.” Sam demonstrated, protecting his stomach the same way the phantom version of Higgs had. “Couldn’t see what was wrong. When I tried, you kinda flipped out, and backed off out of sight. That’s when the tar started coming up, and the storm went all crazy. Weird, huh?”

Higgs’ smile had grown a little tighter, and Sam noted the way his eyes squinted a fraction, like they had during their hike through the woods. At his throat, his collar flickered into amber. Something about his wording had clearly triggered an emotive memory in Higgs, and the other man scratched at the corner of his jaw, the side of his nose, before pushing his fringe back from his face. 

“You’re right. Sounds pretty weird.” A chuckle forced its way out of Higgs’ throat, and as Sam watched, he climbed to his feet, and walked towards the window. Outside, the beginnings of another bright day were creeping through the treeline, casting long shadows across the cabin’s wooden floor. Externally, Higgs seemed to have disconnected himself from the conversation, but the blinking of the collar suggested otherwise. “How about we set off? Make the most of this sunshine while we got it?”

Sam stared after him, feeling the need to apologise for... _ what?  _ The nightmare hadn’t been real. Higgs was here, with him, in the flesh. Perhaps a little scraped and bruised from the wear and tear of the road, but he was safe, and otherwise healthy. As Sam watched, Higgs turned back to face him, and that teasing glint in his eye was back, once more ready to trade jabs and taunts, rather then disclose whatever was on his mind.

“Hey? Delivery boy? You coming?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam shook himself, and stood up. As wonderful as the cabin had been, they needed to get going. They still had a long way to go, and the truck wasn’t going to drive itself.

Together, they made a quick breakfast of coffee and spaghetti hoops, before they packed up their belongings into the back of the truck. Higgs made one final pass around the cabin, taking anything small that caught his eye, before he assumed his familiar position riding shotgun. Sam put on his sunglasses, to avoid the harsh glare of the low lying sun, and with one last glance at the map, they resumed the route to Jackson.

As it happened, they would only drive for a few hours, before the ambush closed its jaws around them. 

The last thing Sam saw was the ground rushing up to meet the windshield, as the truck was rammed over the edge of the bridge.

Blackness, and a throbbing pain behind his eyelids. Sam was dimly aware of Higgs’ voice, sounding close, yet so far away, pleading for him to wake up.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably minutes, the smell of smoke, and the cold, outside air on his face, brought Sam back to his senses. Dizzy, he squinted through the haze of grey filling the cabin, and saw that the world outside had been flipped upside down. From where he hung, in the confines of his seatbelt, Sam wrestled to unclip himself, as he coughed and gasped for air. 

Kicking in the driver’s side window proved harder than expected, and when he finally crawled out of the wreckage, Sam lay in the freezing air for a few seconds until his brain stopped throbbing. The sky above him was filled with smoke, and the ground beneath his cheek felt hard and unforgiving. He needed to put some distance between himself and the burning truck, in case it exploded. As he staggered to his feet, Sam got his bearings, noting the high edges of an old riverbank either side of him. The flow of water had long dried up, but the pebbles and silt remained under the compacted snow.

Backing away from the truck, Sam also noted that Higgs was nowhere to be seen. He hadn’t spotted him in the passenger seat either. The contents of their journey were strewn all over the place, crates and packages, open and otherwise damaged, littered the area as though cast from a great hand. Sam could spot one of Higgs’ book bags nearby, and from where they had spilled out, some of the paperbacks lay, their pages fluttering in the breeze, becoming soggy in the melting slush.

The sound of voices drew Sam's attention, and with haste, he took off in the direction of a hollow he could see in the winding embankment. Crouching behind the frozen dirt, Sam saw a handful of people,  _ raiders _ , making their way down the steep slope from the bridge above. They were talking, and one of them pointed in the direction of the truck, and the cargo that was exposed to the open air. Up on the bridge, a few empty cars were idling, and Sam watched as their belongings were sifted through, like the remains of a carcass. 

They were all good supplies, the bullets and food especially, and one of the raiders crowed in delight at the tins that had been neatly packed into one of the silver crates. Once they seemed occupied with their looting, Sam crept closer, to where he could see his backpack laying in the snow. It was thankfully in one piece, and Sam snagged it up, dragged it behind a nearby tree, and retrieved his handgun. 

The clip was fully loaded, and with his knife still at his waistband, Sam approached the group from behind. 

“Hey, hands off, assholes.” He made sure his gun was pointed at the closest raider, a woman with a faded leather jacket and thin, blonde hair. She was dirty, they all were, their clothing torn and their exposed skin scarred by a hard life of scavenging. She cursed at him, and Sam tightened his grip on the gun, unwavering. Usually, he wouldn’t resort to violence immediately, but the lack of Higgs, coupled with the fact that they  _ needed _ those supplies, made Sam feel more violent than usual. One of the raiders, a brunette man with a puffer jacket, dropped the case of clothes he was carrying,  _ Higgs’ clothes _ , and reached for his own gun. Sam fired a warning shot into the dirt by the woman’s feet, and squared his shoulders. “Hands off, or I’ll shoot.”

“Fuck you. We were here first.” The man argued, and Sam glared at him, unwilling to budge. 

“It’s my truck.”

The raiders looked between themselves, and Sam noticed that on each of their arms, they wore a black band, with a strange insignia painted on it. It looked like a golden star, surrounded by strange lines, resembling some sort of mask or hood. It reminded Sam of one of the books Higgs had been carrying around about ancient history, about a land where the kings were buried in desert tombs, immortalised forever beneath burning sands.

Suddenly, a bullet whistled by Sam’s cheek, and Sam threw himself behind the wreck of the truck, as the sun glinted off of a sniper rifle barrel, up on the bridge. Moving quickly, Sam dashed back into his previous hollow, the snow and silt exploding at his feet, and as he tucked himself into the frozen roots of an old tree, the soil by his cheek was blown through by another bullet. He was outnumbered, but he couldn’t afford to lose those supplies. Even if he could salvage half of them, that would ease some of the road ahead. 

Ducking low, Sam peered out from behind the roots, and fired off a few rounds at the raiders that were advancing. One of them crumpled to the ground, bullets lodged in their guts. He pulled back quickly, to avoid being sniped from afar, and reloaded with bullets from his backpack. As he did, his hands shook minutely, from the adrenaline of the crash, and being pinned down under fire. Without Higgs, and with the raiders quickly advancing on his position, he was a sitting duck, with only a handgun to defend himself. The odds were definitely not in his favour.

Suddenly, the loud sound of a car engine roared down the embankment, and after a pause, Sam heard a thundering explosion of another sniper rifle, cracking like a whip through the cold air of the clearing. Shot after shot pierced the sky, and blood sprayed over the snow. Caught in the open, the raiders screamed, as the firepower tore through their meagre clothing. Cautiously, Sam risked a peek around the edge of the roots, to see a woman up above him, a dozen metres away. She was taking cover behind her open driver’s door, peering through the scope of her gun as she swiftly dispatched the raiders. 

Their own sniper, who was still poised on the bridge, yelled obscenities down at the woman, before burying a bullet into the metal of the car door, inches from her face. The woman ducked down, reloading her rifle, and Sam could see she wore glasses, a white vest, and, most surprisingly, a tan coloured Bridges jumpsuit, the sleeves tied around her waist. She noticed Sam, as she went to stand back up, and Sam was quick to hide again, not wanting to be on the receiving end of that impressive aim.

“I’m not with them!” Sam yelled quickly, and thankfully, the woman seemed to believe him, as she didn’t come leaping over the embankment to shoot him.

“You with Bridges?”

“Yeah!” Sam would have elaborated more, but there was still the matter of the other sniper. They would talk more once this was over, provided they both made it out alive. He lowered his voice to a loud whisper, but made sure it carried enough for the stranger to hear him. “I’ll draw their fire. You take them down?”

“Got it.”

Sam took a deep breath, before he pushed himself out of the dirt, and ran across the wide bed of the stream. He aimed his handgun at the bridge, and fired off a few rounds, prompting the sniper to turn their attention to him instead. “Hey, asshole! I’m right here!” 

It only took a few seconds for the sniper to level a shot at him, and as the sun once again glinted off of the barrel, the woman swiftly delivered a bullet between their eyes, despatching the last of the raiders.

Sam sighed in relief, and looked over his shoulder at the woman, who was fast approaching him. She still seemed suspicious of him, and as Sam opened his mouth to thank her, she brought the barrel of the gun up to his chest height, and shook her head.

“Drop the gun.” She commanded, and Sam swallowed, wondering what he had gotten himself into. He tossed his handgun to one side, and raised both hands placatingly, as the woman scrutinised him from head to toe. “What’s your name?”

“Sam.” If this woman truly was a part of Bridges, Sam was lucky to have run across her. Perhaps he could get a message to Die-Hardman through her, let him know that they had been ambushed.

“Okay, Sam. The truck, you steal it?”

“No, I’m a Porter.”

“Where’s your ID?”

“I’ll get it. It’s in my bag.” When she nodded in assent, Sam made slow, deliberate movements, and placed his bag at his feet. He crouched down, unzipped the front pocket, and pulled out his wallet, producing the old, worn, ID card that had served him passage through so many years in the field. He showed it to her.

“Big delivery, top of the range transport model. What’s the job?” The woman inclined her head towards the smoking wreck, and Sam put the card away, before he reached up to tug the silver necklace out of his shirt collar. It hummed under his touch, and Sam saw the woman stiffen at the sight of it.

“Job for the President. Human cargo, all the way to Portland.”

The woman approached slowly, taking the tags of the necklace in one of her smaller hands, turning them this way, and that. Now it was Sam’s turn to be tense, and he fought the urge to take a step back at her close proximity to his bare skin. After a few seconds, she hummed in approval, and released the necklace with a soft clinking sound.

“Okay, Sam. I believe you.”

“Thanks…” Sam hastily tucked the necklace away, and glanced over the woman’s shoulder at the remains of his truck. “You, uh… you want anything for helping?”

“Let’s see what we can salvage.” The woman smiled then, and held her hand out for Sam’s. “I’m Målingen, by the way, but most people call me ‘Mama’.” Sam didn’t take the offered hand, but he smiled nervously in return, inclining his head politely. Mama must have noticed his discomfort, as she drew her hand back, and turned to face the cargo strewn about the river bank. “How about we pack what we can into my car, my safe house isn’t far from here. There’s a storm coming, and I don’t want to be caught out in it.”

Between the two of them, they managed to save a little over half of the supplies, but a lot of the more perishable items had either been broken by the crash, become sodden in the snow, or ruined in the fire. As Sam carried armfuls of cargo back and forth between his truck, and Mama’s smaller, but still spacious off-roader, his thoughts returned once again to Higgs, and the fact he was missing. If Higgs was alive, he might have escaped the wreckage, and planned on returning to it once night fell. It wouldn’t have been safe for him to stay in the open, and if he had believed Sam dead, he wouldn’t have stuck around to become target practice for the raiders. 

As if reading his mind, Mama’s voice trailed across the open air, and brought Sam out of his head. “You said you were transporting human cargo. Where are they?”

“I don't know. He was with me, when we went over the Bridge.”

“You think the raiders took him?”

Sam desperately tried to recall any of what he had heard Higgs saying while he was still semi-unconscious. Higgs had been begging for him to wake up, but Sam couldn’t remember much more than that. Sam shrugged his shoulders, not sure one way or the other. The uncertainty was eating him up, and although the initial panic had subsided, the constant, low-lying anxiety was preventing him from thinking clearly. “I don’t know, but I gotta find him.”

“They a friend of yours?”

“Something like that.” Sam squinted softly. The image of Higgs sitting next to him at the cabin, sharing the music player, his voice low, honey-sweet and sleep-heavy, had Sam's chest squeezing uncomfortably. He felt like someone was sitting on it. “What about you? You on your own out here?”

“I’m looking for someone too.” Mama’s brow creased in concern, and Sam turned his head to watch her, as they walked. “My sister, Lockne. Raiders took her a week ago, and I’ve been tracking her down.”

“You told Bridges?”

“Yeah, but everyone’s so busy with their own shit out here, they don’t have time to form a proper search party.” Mama’s expression twisted with barely concealed disdain, and Sam could hear Higgs’ voice in the back of his head.

_ Sounds like Bridges.  _ Higgs would have scoffed, and Sam was inclined to agree.

“Sorry to hear. I-”

A groan from one of the raiders on the ground had them both flinching, and Sam immediately reached for his handgun, but Mama was quick to step in the way.

“Wait. Don’t shoot him.” Mama held out a hand, before looking down at the raider, who was struggling to crawl away with a bullet in their gut. “I say we question him, see what he knows.”

Leaving the truck behind, they took the raider, along with the remnants of Sam’s cargo, and drove away from the river. Sat in the passenger seat, Sam cradled the remains of one of Higgs’ book bags, and what paperbacks he had managed to salvage from the snow. It wasn’t much, considering the vast collection he had had before, but Sam wanted to preserve what he could, knowing Higgs would appreciate it, once they reunited with each other. 

_ If they reunited.  _ A taunting voice in the back of Sam’s head needled him. Sam had been sure to check the clearing multiple times before they drove away, and had even scrambled up the slope to the bridge, to see if Higgs was hiding or captured in one of the raider’s cars. Sadly, Higgs was nowhere to be seen. He had simply vanished, like a ghost in the wind. 

Perhaps he had taken this opportunity to bolt, believing Sam to be dead, and his role as a prisoner of Bridges’ finally over. It was likely that he had woken up, heard the raiders approaching, and hightailed it to freedom away from the crash site. The thought of Higgs abandoning him stung in Sam’s chest, but truly, what reason did Higgs have to stick around? It wasn’t like he  _ wanted _ to go to Portland, after all. He might have been friendly enough to Sam’s face, to earn special privileges and freedoms, but at the heart of it, Higgs was never going to submit to whatever fate Bridges had in store for him. Sam couldn’t blame him for acting on his instincts of self-preservation. Hell, he would probably have done the same thing.

They reached Mama’s base within the hour: a short, partially submerged bunker within a thick patch of woodland near Madison, West Virginia. A road had once existed beneath the foliage, but decades of dense Timefall in the area had transformed the open area into a forest. A ramp led down into the concrete structure, and Sam hopped out to help Mama raise the reinforced entryway, and the car slunk into the darkened garage beyond. Once it was closed behind the tail lights of the vehicle, Sam heard the hiss of a vacuum, and a warm, yellow light flickered on overhead. The safehouse appeared to run underground, far deeper than Sam had anticipated, burrowing into the hillside and out of reach of the oppressive weather fronts that tore through this part of America. The decor, and the colour scheme inside the garage, reminded Sam very much of the Bridges’ distribution centre back home. Blues, whites, and dark greys, and Sam could spot empty cargo boxes stacked neatly by the heavy garage door. Mama and her sister probably got deliveries from Porters that swung through the Eastern states, but what were they doing out here so far from civilization?

As Sam stood there, pondering about his new acquaintance, Mama hopped out from the driver’s side of the car, and motioned Sam closer, before planting a hand on her hip. “Why don't you get unpacked? You can take the spare room, and use the bathroom if you want to get cleaned up. Just head that way.” Mama nodded her head in the direction of a brightly lit doorway, and Sam felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders, at the thought of a shower and a warm bed.

“Thanks, Mama. What’re you gonna do?” Sam eyed the prisoner that was bound up in the backseats. Sam had cuffed him using Higgs’ old pair, and Mama had tied a strip of cloth around his eyes so he couldn’t see. Mama followed his gaze, and smiled without it reaching her eyes.

“I’m gonna see what I can get out of this guy. Maybe he knows something about Lockne, and…?”

“Higgs.” Sam offered, and Mama nodded, appearing to commit the name to memory.

_“Higgs._ Look, don’t worry about me, Sam, just make yourself at home. Come find me if you need anything else.”

“Why’re you doing this?” Sam couldn’t help but ask. They barely knew each other, yet Mama was letting Sam use her facilities and take her supplies without even batting an eyelid.

“If you’re on orders from the President, whatever you’re doing, it’s gotta be big.” Mama shrugged one shoulder, before opening up one of the backseats to retrieve the raider. “Besides, you seem like a good guy.”

“What gave you that impression?” Sam frowned, but Mama didn’t reply. She hauled the man out of the seat, blood from the bullet wound in his stomach staining the front of his clothes and the upholstery, and dragged him towards a side door. The raider groaned, and struggled feebly, and Sam watched her leave, before he shook himself off. 

He needed to get his shit together, if he wanted to find Higgs. If he had been taken by the raiders, like Lockne, Sam would need every ounce of strength he could muster to track him down, before it was too late.


End file.
